Blood from a Stone
by sisirongana
Summary: Shepard's used to bad odds, but Saren was a pushover compared to the situation with Harbinger. Especially upon discovery of two things: that Harbinger can possess more than just the Collectors, and that she's kind of in love with Miranda Lawson.
1. Chapter 1

_**Blood from a Stone**_

**1.**

The cacophony of conversation in the conference room came to a distinct halt as soon as Commander Darby Shepard walked in, all blue eyes, easy smile, and confident swagger.

The silence was almost deafening; she always did like making an entrance.

Her team looked at her expectantly, their faces masks of confusion as to why EDI had ushered them into the briefing room. The smooth contralto of Shepard's voice broke the momentary silence. "We've assembled a team of the best of the best and taken care of what unfinished business we can," she said. "This is as prepared as we can get right now, and as you all know, our next immediate mission is to acquire the Reaper IFF."

A series of weary but determined faces greeted the Commander as she paced around the table, the crew bracing themselves for yet another grueling task. "_But_," Shepard continued, pausing for effect, "we've got some time before that. The Normandy still needs a few upgrades that'll take a few days." She leaned back, looking particularly pleased with herself. "I figured we could use that time for a little break while we remain docked."

Everyone looked pleasantly surprised.

Everyone, that is, except for Miranda Lawson.

"Commander, are you sure this is such a good idea?" The cautionary tone of her voice indicated that she apparently did not.

"Lighten up, princess," Jack sniped, crossing her arms. "A little bit of R and R won't kill us."

"No, but the Collectors catching us off-guard just might," replied Miranda, frowning.

"True but improbable. Tech upgrades necessary nonetheless. Will need to ground the Normandy momentarily anyway," Mordin reasoned. "Over-exhaustion also not conducive to performance."

"I've heard that one before," Kasumi smirked.

Jacob Taylor straightened his posture even further, crossing his arms. "Jack is right, Miranda. I, for one, don't want to look a gift horse in the mouth."

Scowling, Miranda protested, "I didn't mean—"

Shepard held up a silencing hand. "We're going to be docked for a few days at the Citadel no matter what, at least for the upgrades. I'm just giving you a few days off in the meantime, and what you do with that is your prerogative. Just be ready in two days to board a derelict Reaper, okay?" Shepard paused, leaning over the table and dropping into her authoritative Commander voice. "Have fun and be safe. I'm sure I don't have to tell you not to get into any trouble," she said, looking pointedly at Jack who innocently shrugged with a smirk. "Dismissed," Shepard said, already heading out the door. At the last second, however, she poked her head back into the room.

"Oh, and guys? Try not to get _too_ wasted."

.

.

.

"Fuck, I am _too _wasted," Jack laughed, struggling to remain upright in her seat at the bar. The music pounding through the Dark Star Lounge was beginning to make Shepard's head hurt.

Shepard rolled her eyes. "So much for official orders," she mumbled dryly.

"Wasn't it you that wanted us to have a little break, Shep?" Kasumi pointed out, sipping delicately at her martini.

"Yeah, Shepard," said Grunt as he slammed down an empty shot glass back down on the bar, burping. His eyes narrowed menacingly at something across the room. "Is that turian over there looking at me funny? He is, isn't he? I'll knock him on his ass if he is."

Finishing off her beer and sighing, Shepard ran a hand through her dark messy hair. "No, Grunt, he isn't."

"C'mon Shepard, you've been hanging around the ice princess too much. You need to lighten up. We all wanted a drink and the rest of the team pussied out. Try not to shit on the parade, huh?" Jack said loudly, slurping at her seventh beer.

Shepard looked contemplative for a moment, before signaling the bartender. "Perhaps you're right," she said, smiling while the sociopath, the thief, and the savage – some of her closest friends - cheered her on. "Down the hatch," Shepard grinned, tossing back a bright green shot that would turn out to be the first of many.

.

.

.

"Damn," Shepard said, finding the keypad to her door far too complicated at the moment. It'd be much easier if the keypad would just stay still. She leaned drunkenly against the doorjamb, trying to get the world to stop spinning. The elevator certainly hadn't helped. "I am _too_ wasted," she mumbled to herself.

"Commander?"

"Wha-? Oh, hi Kelly," Shepard gave a lopsided smile at the redhead who had just emerged from the elevator.

"Having trouble there?" said the yeoman knowingly as Shepard struggled with the door.

"Uh, no," Shepard said, still fumbling until she eventually huffed and slumped against it, her back to the cold steel. "Maybe," she admitted.

Kelly approached the Commander with a charmed little smile on her face. "I'm assuming you had fun at the Dark Star?"

"If by fun you mean a lot of shots, then yeah," the Commander hiccupped.

Laughing, Kelly leaned close enough to Shepard so that the other woman could practically feel her body heat radiating off of her. Her voice lowered an octave. "It's a pity I had to finish up some reports tonight. I think we could've had a great time together," she said, fluttering her eyelashes. "I never got to thank you for the wonderful dinner the other night, by the way."

Shepard swallowed nervously, the discomfort of the situation plowing through her drunken haze and sobering her up immediately. She had flirted with Kelly, yes, but she thought it was mostly in the spirit of pleasant, harmless fun. And she figured dinner was just a nice way to spend time with someone she genuinely liked as a friend. "About that, Kelly," she began, already trying to extricate herself from the yeoman's intimate position, "I didn't mean—"

_To give you the wrong impression_, Shepard said, or it's what she _would _have said, had Kelly Chambers' lips not kept her own otherwise occupied.

"Shepard, I completed those files early, so I— _oh_," Miranda said, halting immediately as she stepped out of the elevator. A bottle of champagne dangled listlessly from her hand.

Shepard practically shoved Kelly off as delicately and politely as possible. "Miranda, hey," she said brightly, as if her yeoman hadn't just shoved her tongue down her throat.

Kelly burned bright red. "Operative," she hedged.

Miranda didn't even give her a second look. She simply nodded in her direction, keeping her icy blue eyes focused on Shepard's darker ones. "Perhaps I should return another time."

"_No,"_ said Shepard emphatically, practically shouting. She winced. "Uh, I mean…no," she said with forced casualness.

"Actually, I-I just remembered some…thing I have to do back at the CIC," stuttered the redhead before fleeing into the elevator, leaving the Commander and her XO looking supremely uncomfortable in the hallway.

Miranda cleared her throat, suddenly finding it very dry. "So, you and Kelly…?"

"What? No," Shepard blurted. "We had dinner a few nights ago. Unfortunately, I think she thought it was more than a friendly one."

"Oh," Miranda said, something that looked like relief flashing in her eyes. Shepard desperately tried to ignore the flicker of hope that welled up within her.

"Champagne?" Shepard asked, opting to change the subject.

Miranda's nose wrinkled as she approached Shepard and the door to her cabin. She fiddled with the keypad briefly before the door whizzed open. "Perhaps we shouldn't. You smell like a brewery," she accused.

Shepard scowled, following Miranda into the cabin and reaching for the champagne flutes nonetheless. "We had a few drinks at the lounge," she defended. "Others have no problem with the way I smell, Miss Lawson."

"Oh, others like Yeoman Chambers, perhaps?" asked Miranda, smirking as she poured the bubbly liquid into the two glasses.

Shepard huffed in exaggerated irritation, but she couldn't stop the relief that she hadn't ruined their tenuous friendship with a simple misunderstanding. "I kind of miss when we weren't friends," she said darkly.

A stifled laugh nearly caused Miranda to inhale champagne. "No, you don't," replied the Cerberus agent with confidence, winking.

The Commander rolled her eyes in response. "Right, Ms. 'I'm-not-cocky-I-just-really-am-perfect.'"

"Ass."

Shepard snorted. "Oh, speaking of which," Shepard said, settling further into the leather couch as Miranda regarded her curiously. "You have got to get a new uniform or something."

"_What?_" asked Miranda after downing the rest of her glass, and pouring the two of them another. "What does a new uniform have to do with asses?"

"God, this is strong," Shepard deflected innocently, peering at her newly filled glass. She was determined not to stare at the rather…shapely body part in question, or at how her uniform highlighted her assets.

"It's a new champagne. Engineered for better proof. And by better, I mean higher," Miranda said, the barest hint of a reddish tint already gracing her pale features as evidence. "Don't try to change the subject. What's wrong with this one?" She asked innocently, gesturing towards the dark leather that was practically painted onto her body.

"I don't care what you or Jacob say about your potentially non-existent past together, or how coy you act. I know you, and I can tell by the smirk on your face that you know Jacob's eyes aren't glued to your outfit because he's trying to figure out what material it's made out of," Shepard said.

The smirk on Miranda's lips only grew wider. "Commander!" she said, pretending to be outraged but barely stifling a laugh. "Are you…jealous?" She asked a moment later, and Shepard's breath caught for a moment at the sight of hooded blue eyes peering at her.

Perhaps it was the copious amounts of alcohol she'd consumed, the weeks spent not verbalizing the strange amalgam of feelings about the other woman building within, or the growing sense of urgency as the launch of the suicide mission approached. Perhaps it was a combination of all three. Either way, Shepard found herself speaking before thinking, a rare occurrence for the usually tactful Commander. "Not _of _you, no."

Miranda's brow furrowed in confusion. "Why would you be jealous of Jacob looking at—_oh_," she said, and the redness of her face burned brighter. Whether it was because of the alcohol or embarrassment Shepard couldn't tell, but she shrugged off the contemplation in lieu of pathetic backpedaling.

"Er, yes. Wait, no. I don't know," Shepard sighed, the alcohol making her stumble even more over her words. She felt the damnable headache from the Dark Star returning with a vengeance. "I just know that I care about you more than a friend should, and we _are _friends, so I didn't want to lose that, and I didn't know if—"

"Shepard," Miranda said suddenly. The same look Shepard saw before but couldn't decipher flashed again in the agent's pale blue eyes, incomprehensible still.

"What?" Commander Shepard asked sullenly, the woozy and wobbly depressing stage of being drunk and rejected already settling in.

But then Miranda was suddenly somehow on top of her, pressing her into the couch, with heated hands everywhere and teeth gently biting down on Shepard's lower lip before sucking gently on it to soothe the sting.

As Shepard heard the whisper of a zipper being unzipped – which Shepard had heard many times before in a variety of contexts, but it had never sounded this _erotic_ – the world began spinning madly once again for reasons entirely different than alcohol.


	2. Chapter 2

**2.**

The fact that Shepard woke up with a blinding headache was unsurprising: she vaguely recalled getting insanely drunk twice last night, and she was old (and experienced) enough to know the consequences.

As experienced as she was in the ways of getting drunk, however, gone were the days in the Academy of going through lovers like she went through underwear. So it was a little bit of a surprise when Shepard woke up naked and flat on her back, Miranda Lawson cuddling her from the side.

A surprisingly but delightfully, wonderfully naked Miranda Lawson with the sexiest bedhead Shepard had ever seen, with the most beautiful, peaceful smile gracing her lips.

That is, until blue eyes opened wide and Miranda practically leapt away from Shepard's form, stumbling out of the bed.

"Oh God," said the Cerberus agent, clutching at sheets to protect whatever modesty had been left after last night.

"Most people call me Shepard," said the Commander with a smile. She gestured in invitation towards Miranda. "Looks cold. Maybe you should come back to bed."

"You're naked. _I'm_ naked," came the desperate protest.

"That would be correct," Shepard said slowly. "Is everything okay?"

"_Shepard_," Miranda hissed in frustration. "We slept together!" she shouted.

Black eyebrows furrowed deeply. "Yes…so? Why are you so upset? It couldn't have been that bad, could it? Because as drunk as I was, I remember in vivid detail that it wasn't."

"It was bloody fantastic, but—" was the immediate response until Miranda's face reddened, her embarrassment only incensing her anger. She shook her head as if to clear her thoughts. "Shepard, _we shouldn't have done that_."

"Why?" asked Shepard, a hollow pit in her stomach already forming. She tried to brace herself for whatever Miranda would say next, but she knew that if the other woman said that it was just a drunken, regretful mistake…well, Shepard wouldn't know what she'd do, but she was pretty sure it'd be something bad. "Do you…do you regret it?" asked Shepard, suddenly looking everywhere except at Miranda and unconsciously clenching her fist. "Is this the part where you tell me you're straight, that you were just drunk and curious and bored, or—I mean, I'm pretty sure you're too old to have a sexuality crisis-"

"Shepard, _no_. Wait, did you just say I was old?" Miranda interrupted, finally resigning to sit down on the bed next to Shepard's reclining form. "That's not it," she conceded, the look in her eyes softening to the point where she resembled the Miranda from last night again instead of this panicky, skittish one.

"Then why?" Shepard demanded. Internally she winced, hating the desperation that colored her voice.

"Because!" Miranda huffed before she appeared to deflate, all the fight gone out of her. Subdued, she said, "You and I both know more than anyone the severity of the situation. And you know, that whole part where we probably won't come back alive from the Omega-4 relay is somewhat important." Miranda ran a frustrated hand through her hair, the other still clutching the sheets to her body. "Shepard, I…"

"Do you care about me?"

For a moment, the Cerberus agent looked stunned, until she cast her eyes downwards to the floor. "This isn't easy for me to say, Shepard. But…yes, I do."

Shepard tried to ignore the rush of relief that flooded through her at Miranda's small admission, and instead chose to sit up and mold herself to Miranda's back, resting her chin on her shoulder. "I meant what I said last night," she murmured. "I care about you too. So much that it kind of scares me."

The tension in Miranda's body relaxed a little, and she leaned back into Shepard. "I'm scared, Shepard." She sighed as the Commander's arms wrapped around her from behind. "What if this gets in the way of how we work together? What if…what if we don't make it back?" She asked quietly.

"There are a million "what ifs" you could ask, Miranda. A million possibilities, a million uncertainties." replied Shepard gently. "But I'd rather focus on the things I do know for sure." The strong arms around Miranda's middle tightened as Shepard pressed a kiss to her shoulder.

Miranda sighed, but she couldn't help the little smile that grew on her face. "I suppose you're right."

Shepard flashed her a brilliant smile. "Always."

Rolling her eyes, Miranda turned her head enough so that she could press a quick but heated kiss to Shepard's lips. As Shepard's mouth grew more insistent, Miranda pulled away a little breathlessly, looking directly into Shepard's eyes. "What kind of things do you know for sure?" She asked curiously, ignoring Shepard's little pout.

"Hmm…" the Commander said, feigning intense concentration. "Two things. The first is that I like you. A lot. It's almost obscene."

Charmed, Miranda smiled. "So you're not entirely rough around the edges. Who knew the great Commander Shepard could be so sweet?"

"Mm-hmm," Shepard preened.

"What's the second thing?"

Shepard's pleased look turned into something a little more mischievous. The Commander slowly dragged a hand down the curves of Miranda's body and down the front until it reached its destination, eliciting a scandalized gasp. "That I also really like that cute little birthmark you have right…about…here."

"_Shepard!_"

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.

.

Later that afternoon, Shepard strolled into the tech lab, whistling. She smiled when she spotted Mordin Solus fiddling away at something as usual.

"How're those upgrades coming? Everything okay?" asked Shepard brightly.

"Yes, yes," Mordin said in his typical clipped fashion. "All going well. Will be finished tomorrow. Then IFF can be obtained."

"Perfect," Shepard said, leaning casually against a table. "I think two days off was more than enough. The crew gets restless when their lives aren't at stake," she joked.

Mordin looked up from the specimen he was analyzing, looking at Shepard with the same sort of scrutiny. "Hmm," he murmured to himself.

"What?"

"A little flushed. Happier demeanor. Jovial almost. Practically glowing. Good night's rest? No. Still bags under the eyes. Same symptoms found in Operative Lawson. Perhaps—" the suspicious look in the salarian's eyes turned knowing. "Ah. I see. You and Miranda have consummated your relationship, yes?"

Shepard spluttered. "What?"

"Human species have post-coital phenomenon called 'afterglow,' typically occurring the morning after copulation, and –"

"Okay, okay," Shepard interrupted, raising her hands and trying to curb the raging blush that dusted her cheeks. "Are we that obvious?"

"Crew has had betting pool about when intercourse between you and Operative Lawson would occur for past two months," Mordin said matter-of-factly. He returned his gaze back to his specimen.

"_A betting pool?_" she asked, incredulous.

"Yes," Mordin replied, until he looked at her curiously again. "Commander. Repetition of what has been said usually indicative of problems hearing. Can run tests if you'd like."

Shepard sighed. "No, Mordin, I'm just a little shocked, I suppose."

"Understandable. Subject of sex within human species still somewhat taboo."

"Well, yes, but…" Shepard paused, then sighed again. "Whatever Miranda and I do together is our business," she said.

"Of course, Commander," said the salarian absently.

Shepard awkwardly turned to leave. "I'm…ah…going to check on the status of…something. Somewhere else."

She was halfway out the door when Mordin called out after her.

"Talk later? Interesting recreational uses of mass effect fields and biotics to discuss. May be useful for you and Operative –"

"_Goodbye,_ Mordin."

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.

.

Kasumi was reading one of her trashy bodice-rippers when Shepard walked into the observation room, heading straight for the bar.

"Rough day, Shep?"

Shepard only grunted, nursing a tumbler of brandy. "Want some?"

"Pour me some of that bright blue stuff over there," Kasumi said, pointing.

"What is it?" Shepard asked curiously, after she poured it and brought it over to the other woman. She flopped onto the couch with a huff.

"Oh, I don't know," said the thief lightly. "I just like the color."

Shepard snorted. "Let's hope it doesn't kill anything with double-helical DNA," she joked, before sighing and running a hand through her hair.

Kasumi sipped at the bright drink. "I think I'll live," she said. "Now what's up, Shep? You only go for the hard stuff when you've had a rough day. And earlier this morning you were all sunshine and rainbows."

The Commander swallowed back some more brandy, the burn of the alcohol tracing from her mouth down into her stomach. "I don't know. Mordin said something weird today. Caught me off guard, I guess."

Kasumi looked thoughtful for a moment. "Oh, was it about you and Miranda sleeping together?"

"Jesus," Shepard said, shaking her head after she finished off her drink. "Does everybody aboard this damn ship know?"

Kasumi nodded sagely. "They probably know in other galaxies. You guys weren't exactly subtle."

"What are you talking about?" Shepard insisted. "I didn't even really think she liked women up until last night!"

"To be fair, Shep, you're a little blind when it comes to your own love life," Kasumi pointed out.

"I am not," the Commander said sullenly.

"That green asari on Ilium, Shiala? _Totally_ flirting with you. It was obvious you didn't even realize she was practically molesting you with her eyes until she semi-asked you out."

"I thought she was being friendly," Shepard said defensively.

The thief scoffed, sipping again at her drink. "Besides, you and Miranda either bicker like an old married couple or make googly eyes at each other when the other isn't looking."

Shepard eyed the other woman suspiciously. "That's not true," she said, skepticism coloring her voice.

Kasumi sighed. "Deny it all you want, Shep. Point is, you slept together, so it kind of supports everything I'm saying. It didn't help matters when you went undercover at Hock's as Ms. Alison Gunn. The way you looked in that dress? Told you it was hot. Miranda was staring at you like you had the answers to the universe hidden in your cleavage."

"Whatever," Shepard groused, knowing she was defeated.

"And you know you were being the bully pulling on a girl's pigtails because you secretly liked her. How many times did you go against _everything_ she suggested just to get on her nerves?"

"Okay, okay," Shepard conceded. She sighed heavily. "I'm worried though. I don't care what people think, but this can't affect team cooperation."

"I wouldn't worry. Almost everyone already knew something was there, and nobody cared. The only thing you'd have to be concerned about now is probably Jacob secretly trying to catch you guys making out," Kasumi said brightly.

"Thanks," responded Shepard in a dry tone, standing up to put away the glasses. "I should go. I'll see you later, Kasumi."

Watching her leave, Kasumi said to the Commander's retreating form, "Tell Miranda I said hello!"

.

.

.

"Did you know that everyone fucking knew?" Shepard asked without preamble, bursting into Miranda's office.

Unperturbed, Miranda sighed, leaning back into her chair. "Unfortunately, not until late this afternoon. Jacob asked why I was practically 'floating around the Normandy,' and Jack made a crass comment about how I must have finally removed, and I quote, 'that ten foot long spiked pole' from my ass. They sort of figured it out from there."

Shepard grimaced at the image until her expression cleared. "Huh. Well." Shepard sat back, settling into the couch. "I suppose you and I are both oblivious idiots. Come over here and let's be idiots together. It's been a helluva day." She patted the spot next to her, smiling as Miranda got up from her desk.

"I think I'd prefer to sit here," Miranda said coyly, settling onto Shepard's lap and wrapping her arms around the Commander's neck.

"I like the way you think," grinned Shepard.

"Is that so, Commander?" Miranda asked, looking down at Shepard with hooded eyes. "What else do you like about me?"

"Mm, how you're such a wonderful narcissist," Shepard said, her reply muffled as she painted Miranda's neck with kisses and swipes of her tongue.

Miranda merely laughed, a delightful sound Shepard would never tire of hearing. As the operative tangled her hands in Shepard's black hair, she pulled away momentarily to regard the Commander seriously. "Are you sure you're not bothered by everyone knowing?"

Shepard's hands continued to roam. "I was going to ask you the same question."

"I thought I would be, but it's not as big of a deal as I thought. I'm not bothered at all," said Miranda.

"Good. Neither am I," said Shepard, her caresses of Miranda's body getting bolder. "Let's see if I can't get you all _hot _and bothered though," she grinned wickedly.

Miranda looked horrified for a moment. "Oh god, do you actually say these things to women? Does it work?"

"I dunno," said Shepard, smoothly lifting Miranda up and taking her to the back of her room where the bed was. She muffled her own laugh as she pushed Miranda onto her back and hovered over her, hands flat on either sides of the other woman. Miranda's eyes darkened with desire, her breath hitching. "You tell me," Shepard said with a grin.


	3. Chapter 3

**3.**

Shepard looked absolutely crestfallen, and for a terrifying moment, Miranda saw her bottom lip quiver.

"They're dead," she whispered, aghast. "All dead." Dark blue eyes remained glued to the horrific site in front of her, masochistically focusing on the dead eyes that stared listlessly back.

"Shepard…" Miranda said, slipping her hand into the Commander's. She felt confused and a little hesitant. Not to mention guilty, because she felt almost a little like laughing. The biotic squeezed the larger hand in hers, clearing her throat. "Why don't you go to the mess and have a cup of tea or something? I'll take care of this."

Shepard frowned, but nodded her hesitant consent. "All right. If you're sure," she said.

Miranda gave her a reassuring smile, tilting her face upwards to press a kiss to the taller woman's mouth. "Positive."

"I appreciate this," Shepard said, although her eyes still remained mournful. As soon as Miranda watched a sullen-looking Commander depart by way of the elevator, she turned back towards the cabin and stared in puzzlement, hands on her hips.

"Who knew she was _that_ attached to them?" Miranda questioned out loud to herself.

She mentally shrugged and began methodically cleaning the dead fish out of Shepard's tank.

**.**

**.**

**.**

Ignoring her lover's suggestion, Shepard opted for a strong cup of black coffee instead of tea. Armed with the mug that was filled with as much sugar as it was caffeine, she reluctantly trudged up to the CIC, spotting the one woman she wanted most to confront and simultaneously, to avoid.

"Kelly," she said stoically.

The redhead turned from her station with a start and a barely hidden squeak of surprise. "C-Commander," she said, awkwardly saluting. Shepard would have laughed if the situation weren't so uncomfortable, then felt a little guilty until a flash of her pets' dead eyes appeared in her mind. "Listen, about before…" the yeoman began.

"Mr. Bigglesworth and Sodapop are dead," Shepard announced, unable to keep the mournful tone out of her voice.

Kelly's face fell drastically, then for a moment, looked like she had committed the most heinous of crimes. "Oh, Shepard, I'm so sorry."

"I appreciate it, but you don't need to be sorry about it."

"No, you don't understand," said the yeoman with a mix of sorrow and nervousness. "I'm _sorry_. As in, I was so distraught over what happened the other night that I suppose I must have forgot to feed them, and….and—"

A look of realization dawned over Shepard's face. "Oh," she said flatly. "I see."

Kelly looked as if she were actually about to cry, either out of guilt or fear that she was to be fired. Or worse, permanently on Commander Shepard's shit-list. That list tended to be full of soon-to-be-dead people. "I'm so sorry, Shepard, I know much you loved them, and it's my _job_ to remember these things but I—"

Sighing, Shepard managed a small smile, placing a warm hand on Kelly's shoulder to stop her apologetic rambling. "It's okay, Kelly," she reassured. "I wasn't even away on a mission this time, so technically you shouldn't have had to feed them. It's more my fault than anything," Shepard said.

The redhead looked doubtful. "Really?"

Shepard nodded. "Really. And as much as I cared for them, I suppose in the end, the Citadel does have tons more fish for sale anyway." She smiled, mostly for Kelly's sake than her own.

"So you're not going to fire me?" asked Kelly in a pathetically tiny voice, to which Shepard had to bark out a laugh.

"No, I'm not going to fire you." Kelly looked utterly relieved. "Actually," Shepard said, rubbing the back of her neck in hesitation. "I came to talk about the other night," she said, lowering her voice.

Yeoman Chambers colored, the bright red of her blush a stark contrast to her fair, pale skin. "I'm really sorry about that too, Commander. I was too forward, and it was completely out of line."

Shepard shook her head. "If anyone should be apologizing, it's me. I understand I may have given you the wrong impression, Kelly, and for that, I'm sorry. But I'm not sorry for hanging out with you, having dinner, and getting to know you better. You're a great friend," Shepard said earnestly.

Despite the feeling of her heart sinking just a little, Kelly put on an easy smile. "You are too, Shepard." The hand on her shoulder squeezed.

"I should go," Shepard said with yet another reassuring smile before sipping at her mug and turning.

"Shepard!" Kelly called out, remembering something right when the doors were about to close. "I can…clean the aquarium out, if you'd like," she offered hesitantly.

Shepard rested a palm on the door of the elevator to keep it open. "That's very nice of you, Kelly, but Miranda's already taken care of it," she said, before waving goodbye as she let the elevator doors hiss shut.

"Yes, of course she has," said Kelly faintly to no one, trying to make herself believe that sinking feeling in her stomach was only out of grief for the late Mr. Bigglesworth and Sodapop.

.

.

.

By the time Shepard had returned to her cabin, Miranda had already finished cleaning out the tank and was lounging on Shepard's bed, leafing through the book she found on the nightstand.

"If only I could always come home to a beautiful woman in my bed," Shepard said with a faint grin.

"Well, if you're already hitting on me, then I'm assuming you must feel better," replied Miranda, scooting over on the bed and patting the empty space beside her.

Shepard obediently flopped down next to her, their positions bringing them face to face, a scant space separating them. Brushing a strand of hair out of Miranda's eyes, Shepard nodded solemnly. "Of course. I read somewhere that bad pick-up lines are a sign of good health."

Miranda chuckled, leaning forward to brush her lips against Shepard's. When she pulled away, she regarded the Commander's deep blue eyes seriously. "Really, though. Are you feeling better? I know how much you cared for…" Miranda hesitated. She really hated saying those ridiculous names. "…them."

"Mr. Bigglesworth and Sodapop," reminded Shepard. "And yes, I'm fine. They were just fish, I suppose." She sighed.

Miranda shifted and wiggled closer to Shepard so that her nose was buried in the crook of Shepard's neck. Shepard's arms automatically wrapped around her, molding their bodies together. "But they were your pets," she said.

"True." A thought struck her. "Did you ever have any?" Shepard asked.

The snort that emerged from Miranda was utterly unladylike but charming, nonetheless. "As if my father needed more living beings to treat as things," she said flatly.

Shepard squeezed her a little tighter, but she knew Miranda didn't want to hear her pity. "Yes, but what about you? I can imagine you with a little cat," she said lightly. "All haughty independence and steely glares like you," teased Shepard.

A pinch on her backside produced an undignified yelp. "Contrary to your utterly incorrect beliefs, Commander," said Miranda, nipping at Shepard's neck. "I actually wanted a puppy."

"I love dogs. Back on Earth, this mutt used to follow me around all the time when I was a kid," Shepard said wistfully. "I named him Winston."

"That's a fairly normal name," teased Miranda, fondly thinking of a little Shepard running around the streets with a dedicated mutt trailing behind.

"Winston Snufflejumper McAllister. Everybody just called him Mick," she said sourly. Miranda rolled her eyes. "Hey, if you had a dog, you'd walk it all the time?"

"Of course," said Miranda. "Obviously."

Shepard persisted. "Play with it? Feed it?"

"I do have some modicum of responsibility, Shepard. The Illusive Man didn't hire a complete twit," scowled the agent in offense.

Laughing, Shepard poked the other woman in the side playfully. "I'm just asking."

"Why?" came the curious muffled response, as Miranda's face was still buried in the crook of Shepard's neck.

Pausing, Shepard ran her hands down Miranda's back while her expression remained thoughtful. "I just wanted to make sure you'd be a good co-owner. For…you know. Uh," she fumbled. "If we get one or something," she mumbled.

Miranda abruptly pulled back, looking seriously at her as if evaluating the seriousness of Shepard's words, the implications of her suggestion. When Shepard smiled hesitantly, eyebrows quirked in question, Miranda laughed, launching herself against Shepard, wrestling the other woman so that she sat astride the Commander's hips in victory. As Shepard looked up at her with that infinitely affectionate look she'd never noticed before, the tingling warmth Miranda felt throughout her body simultaneously melted and flared into an encompassing heat that both comforted her and shook her, leaving her nearly breathless.

"You mean, _when_ we get one, Commander," Miranda said, leaning down to seal the promise with a kiss.

.

.

.

The next day, in the remaining hours before the Normandy's upgrades were completed and Joker would steer them towards the derelict Reaper, Shepard's loud footsteps clattered down the metal stairwell leading to Jack's dark abode.

"Well, well," Jack said in that smarmy way of hers. "Look what the cat dragged in."

Shepard rolled her eyes. "Hey to you too, Jack."

"Or is it, 'look what the cheerleader turned into a dumb sex slave and then dragged itself in'?" the biotic mused.

"Har-de-har-har. I only take offense at the 'dumb' part. Sex slave is fine with me."

"Gross," said Jack, turning up her nose. She reached into her back pocket to fish out the well-worn deck of cards she and Shepard always used to play Skyllian-Five. Like with her gun, Shepard never saw Jack without it.

"You started it," Shepard replied childishly.

"I just don't fucking get it, man," said Jack, dealing out the cards with a little bit more force than usual. "Okay, genetically-engineered to be one hot bitch. I get that. But I expected more than drooling male behavior from you, Shepard."

"It's more than that, Jack," Shepard said defensively. The steely look in her eyes softened when the thought of Miranda came to mind. "I lo-….I really care about her," she amended hastily.

"Oh for fuck's sake," the younger woman snarled. "You're an even bigger pussy than before." The smirking quirk of her lips, however, gave her away and lessened the sting of the remark. Jack had a weird way of showing affection.

"For someone who's not interested in joining 'the girls' club,' you're awfully focused on calling me that certain part of female anatomy," Shepard said lightly, organizing the hand she was dealt like she wasn't teasing a dangerous sociopath.

Jack was caught between glaring and rolling her eyes. "Fuck you."

"You wish," Shepard sing-songed.

The length of Jack's arm glowed with a blue aura, the crackle of energy focusing in her palm as she held it up. "You really wanna make me do this?" she threatened.

Shepard remained gleefully unperturbed, laying down her cards with her innocent poker face plastered on. "Kinky. I think Miranda would be jealous though."

The biotic field disappeared in a flash. But just as quickly, Jack leaned over to throw a punch that landed squarely on Shepard's shoulder.

"Just fucking play already," griped Jack, and Shepard pointedly rubbed at her shoulder for the rest of the game.

.

.

.

"Shepard, we should—mmph," Miranda said, her words muffled by Shepard's unyielding kiss. The operative pulled away breathlessly with reluctance. "We should go. They're waiting for us in the briefing room."

The Commander sighed, leaning into Miranda's body, which was perched on the edge of her desk. "I suppose," she said, eyebrows furrowed.

Miranda loosened the grip her knees had on Shepard's hips so that the other woman was no longer sandwiched between them. Miranda gently nudged her away so that she could hop off the desk. Straightening her uniform, she laughed as Shepard glowered near the doorway. "You're cute when you pout, Commander."

"Yeah, yeah," she groused, scowling further when Miranda approached her to adjust the collar of her shirt. "I hate how saving the galaxy gets in the way of everything sometimes."

"Like getting into my jumpsuit?"

"What else could mean everything to me except that?" retorted Shepard, cloyingly sweet. A gentle backhand to the stomach from Miranda produced a wounded, pathetic look. "That hurt."

"I'll make it up to you later," Miranda winked, pressing a quick kiss to Shepard's frowning lips. "What's the plan?" She asked, already heading out the door of her office.

Shepard followed after her, and Miranda missed the flash of discomfort that crossed her sharp features. "Oh, you'll see."

.

.

.

"As important as this mission is, it's going to be the same routine as always. I'm going to take a small team with me, and the rest of you are going to stay aboard the Normandy and keep Joker from having another catfight with EDI or something," Shepard said as a series of faces watched her from around the conference table. "Let's make this a get-in and get-out mission. I'm sure none of us really want to be hanging out on a derelict Reaper for too long."

"Who are you taking with you, Commander?" Jacob asked. Shepard varied her squad composition based on what she expected, but she typically always had either Jack or Miranda, sometimes both, on the squad at all times.

"I'll—" Miranda began, already offering up the battle plan that placed her with Shepard as backup.

"—stay here," Shepard cut in, catching Miranda's eye. "Jack, Mordin, you're with me on this one." She looked everyone in the eye save for the seething Miranda.

"Ouch," Jack said snidely, until Shepard glared at her.

"Commander," Miranda said, almost sternly. "I think it would be better if I—"

Shepard finally met Miranda's gaze, looking infuriatingly apologetic. "This is a simple retrieval mission. I think it'd be best if you remained here, Miranda."

The other woman looked incredulous. "Shepard, this is _not_ a simple retrieval mission. You're boarding a derelict Reaper. Who knows what you'll find there?"

Muffling a sigh, Shepard shook her head. "Which is why I need you here. This is one of the rare missions where we're really going in blind. If something happens to me, I need my second-in-command to be here on the Normandy just in case. "

Miranda couldn't really argue further in the face of reason or with the look on Shepard's face that indicated she wouldn't change her mind. Miranda pursed her lips, frowning. "Understood, Commander," she said curtly.

"Good. We've all got our orders. Dismissed," Shepard said, watching the rest of the crew file out uncomfortably, Miranda deliberately lingering behind.

"I hate it when mommy and daddy fight," Jack said, sauntering out of the conference room. As soon as the doors hissed shut, Miranda whirled to face Shepard.

Shepard took a hesitant step forward. "Listen, Miranda…"

"I think you know how stupid I find this to be," Miranda said icily, crossing her arms. "And Shepard, if this is because of something sentimental like, you're worried about me or something equally as absurd, then I may very well slap you."

"What I said makes sense, and you know it," Shepard said softly, placing her hands on Miranda's hips. The other woman still scowled with her arms remaining crossed, but she reluctantly allowed Shepard to pull her a little closer. "You know I want you with me all the time," Shepard said, her voice low and intimate. "And I always worry about you anyway. I'm going to worry about you while you're here."

"Well, I'm going to worry about you _there,_" Miranda bit out, exasperated. "I don't like this. But…I suppose you're right."

"I told you," Shepard smiled. "Always." She wrapped her arms around Miranda, holding her tightly before pressing a quick kiss to her lips, brightening. "I think that was our first real fight as a couple. Pity we don't have time to properly…make up."

Miranda merely laughed and rolled her eyes. "You're incorrigible."

"Something like that," Shepard agreed.

.

.

.

The flight to the derelict Reaper was more than rough, but the jostling turbulence was but a mere hindrance to their arrival at the abandoned Cerberus station safely. Save for a few stumbles aboard the Normandy as Joker steered them through gusting winds, the mission already seemed to be going smoothly.

It was when the airlock doors blasted open and they discovered that the Reaper's kinetic barriers went online, however, that things became a little more problematic.

"So if we shoot out the core, we may fall into the collapsing star…But that's the only way you can get back to us because of the reactivated shields." Shepard clarified dubiously. She sighed when Joker's hesitant voice confirmed her suspicions.

"Trapped inside a Reaper," Jack scowled. "Great. I want to shoot something."

"Save it for whatever we find in here," Shepard replied. "I don't think it'll be welcoming us with open arms."

"Do they ever?" sniped the tattooed biotic.

Shepard didn't deign to reply as they armed themselves and cautiously entered the Reaper. The reports of the dead scientists were already foreboding, and dead bodies littered the floors, painting a grotesque, haunting image. In the Reaper itself, it was eerily silent save for the hollow, echoing clanks of their feet against the metal walkways. An unnerving chill went through Shepard's suit, despite its built-in homeostatic thermostat.

Suddenly, mumbled, angry groans shattered the silence.

"Hostiles in front," Mordin said, matter-of-factly, already incinerating a few of the moaning husks.

Shepard made a few well-placed headshots, muttering darkly, "I _hate_ these things."

A husk slipped past Jack and Mordin's defenses, sneaking behind the Commander's back. Shepard only noticed it when it clubbed a clumsy, decrepit hand across the back of her head. "Ow, goddamn it!" she grunted.

"I don't think they like us much either, Shepard," Jack retorted dryly, easily pulling the offending husk away from Shepard with her biotics.

Shepard only glared for a second, before smashing the butt of her machine gun against the nearest groaning creature's skull harder than was necessary.

.

.

.

"_Fuck_, those are persistent fat bastards, aren't they?" panted Jack. "Like, why the fuck do they have to be so goddamn ugly, and why the _fuck_ do their tumor-looking things have to explode all over the damn place when you shoot 'em?" She wiped a slimy goop off the side of her face in disgust.

"Growths on scions may not be tumors. Sac-like membranes, perhaps. Contents unknown. Lymph? Blood? Indeterminable. Would need a sample to confirm," Mordin said, blinking when Jack met his gaze with a haughty glare.

"Yeah, because 'sac-like membranes' are more enticing than 'tumor-looking things'," she muttered.

Having ignored her teammates' idle chatter, Shepard easily accessed the exact storage container she needed, hacking its lock with speed. "There," Shepard said, grabbing the IFF triumphantly, handing it to Mordin. "Safeguard this. Stay on the sidelines as usual, blast from behind cover, and if there's any more trouble, Jack and I will head into the fray."

"Understood, Commander," Mordin said. The salarian safely stored it within a special compartment in his suit, nodding agreeably. "Would be interesting to see that geth again, however," he noted, thinking of the strange creature that had addressed Shepard after saving her life. "Did not know geth could even speak."

"Yeah, and why the hell would it help us?" Jack asked.

"I don't know, but be on your guard nonetheless," said the Commander. "We still don't know its motives, and that's not what our mission is about." Her tone changed, brightened in encouragement. The grin Shepard flashed was one of pure confidence and charm. "Now all we've got to do is destroy the core. Easy enough, yeah?" The air locked doors opened in a flash, revealing the blue, burning core…

…as well an endless sea of approaching husks.

Jack glared, and the Commander merely shrugged. "Just _had _to fucking say it, didn't you?"

"Well, okay. _And_ narrowly escape with our lives, too," Shepard amended a little sheepishly, already taking aim.

.

.

.

"I don't like this," Miranda said, canting her hips and resting a defiant hand on one of them.

"You said that already," Jacob replied dryly. He crossed his bulky arms across his broad chest, trying to keep the exasperation out of his tone.

"Did I?" asked Miranda absently, fiddling with one of the weapons on the table next to Jacob. "This is just too risky. I knew I should have gone with her, let you take point back here instead."

Sighing, Jacob snatched the rifle that Miranda poked at, searching for a thermal clip to insert into it. When he found one, he snapped it into the chamber a little harshly, unable to hide his frustration. "What difference would it have made, Miranda? You're the one always talking about how you should be leading some of the missions anyway. And the president and vice president don't fly together for a reason," Jacob said pointedly.

"I know," she said, exasperated with the situation and herself. She toyed with an errant strand of dark hair distractedly before she noticed Jacob's harsh, stiff movements. Her gaze narrowed, focusing in on her comrade's stern face. "Is everything all right?" she asked.

There was a brief silence, a fleeting moment where Jacob kept his gaze downward, focusing a little too intently on adjusting the gun in his hands. Then he lifted dark, accusing eyes to Miranda's, leveling his gaze with hers. "I have the utmost respect for both you and the Commander. And you know I care about you both." At Miranda's confused look, he continued. "But to be honest? When I told her I thought you needed a better man than I…I didn't think that would mean a woman."

Miranda was more than a bit flabbergasted. "Really? That's what this is about? Because we're two _women_, or because of your bruised male ego? Christ, Jacob, it's the bloody 22nd century!"

Jacob held up his hands in a conciliatory manner. "That's not what I meant, Miranda. That came out all wrong. I just…I don't get it," he tried to explain, but once she was on, there really was no way to turn Miranda Lawson off.

"What is there to _get_, exactly? In what way are you at all involved in my relationship with Shepard?" she asked in accusation. When Jacob remained silent, she looked satisfied despite the anger in her eyes. "That's right. You're not." He stared at her mutely while she scrutinized him. "I expected more from you than close-mindedness about that, Mr. Taylor," she said stiffly. "Or childishness."

"I said it came out wrong. I'm not… I don't care that you're both women," he insisted, suddenly looking exhausted and defeated. "And it's not Shepard specifically. I just…I guess that I never…" he breathed in heavily. "I never really understood why I wasn't good enough," Jacob practically whispered in admission.

Miranda's look softened momentarily, but when she reached out to pat his shoulder, the underlying meaning of her words struck him hard. "That's just it, Jacob. Your insecurity always got in the way of everything." He looked like a dog that had been kicked, keeping his eyes to the floor. "It was never that you weren't good enough. It was that you just weren't the one for me."

"But the Commander is, isn't she?" he asked quietly, finally looking into Miranda's eyes.

"Yes." The answer was immediate, and Miranda almost flushed a little in embarrassment.

He paused. "Do you love her?"

Something in Miranda's eyes flickered. "I—"

Joker's voice broke through the intercom in the armory, interrupting whatever she was planning on saying.

"Uh, Miranda?" His voice was different, and gone was the jovial, casual tone that usually colored his voice.

Miranda's heart suddenly skipped one horrific beat. "What is it, Joker?" she asked, almost afraid of the answer. "Are communications with the field team back up?"

"Yeah, and they're heading back in a hurry-"

A wave of relief washed over Miranda, and she released the breath she was holding. "Then what's the problem?" she asked.

"Because we just lost it again, and this is the last thing the comms picked up." Joker immediately patched the recording in over the intercom.

The scratchy, crackling recording only allowed for broken bits of speech, but the sounds of gunfire and explosions, as well as the urgency of Jack's normally caustic, easy voice, turned Miranda's blood to ice. Her heart stopped skipping beats, and simply stopped altogether.

"Re..peat…I fucking- did you he….ar me? We l… st… God—amn it, you fucking…"

For a moment, the static disappeared, and the recording was crystal clear.

"Repeat, we _fucking lost Shepard!"_


	4. Chapter 4

**4.**

"What the hell happened out there?" Jacob demanded as soon as Mordin and Jack wearily exited the decontamination chamber, pinning both of them with accusing, angry looks. He barely gave them time to answer before whirling around and walking briskly towards the briefing room. The instruction to follow him needn't be spoken, and the two returning squad members shuffled after him.

"Unexpected turn of events," Mordin replied solemnly.

"Understatement of the fucking year," grumbled Jack, looking just as worse for wear as the salarian.

"I need answers," Jacob barked, just as they neared the briefing room door and the airlocks whizzed open to reveal the entire squad waiting expectantly.

Jack had barely set foot into the conference room before she was blindsided and slammed into the wall so forcefully that the wind was knocked out of her lungs, hazy stars swimming before her eyes. A strong, leather-clad arm glowing blue with biotics pressed heavily against her throat, the lack of oxygen blurring Jack's vision further.

"Miranda!" Jacob shouted in alarm, the woman in question looking angrier than he had ever seen her.

The operative ignored him, blue eyes filled with rage as she utilized her enhanced strength and biotic energy to suspend Jack against the wall, the tattooed biotic's feet kicking and scrambling to find purchase. Jacob and the rest of the squad looked on in stunned horror; hell hath no fury like Miranda Lawson pissed off.

"I want every bloody detail of what happened out there right this second, or I will not hesitate to rip you apart," Miranda hissed, leaning more heavily on the arm braced against Jack's throat.

"I'd…like to see… you try… _bitch_," rasped Jack, one hand clawing at Miranda's arm in attempt to pry it off her. The other hand raised a chair from behind Miranda's back with her biotics, levitating it with the intention of slamming it into the back of the unsuspecting agent's head.

"Stand down!" Garrus demanded, signaling at Jacob and Samara for assistance. Jacob forcefully dragged Miranda away from Jack, and Samara easily took control over the floating chair with her own biotics, settling it back down on the floor with a thud.

"What the hell's wrong with you?" Jacob accused as Miranda painfully shoved him off of her, after wrenching his grip from her arms.

"If the cheerleader's got a bone to pick with me, let her," snarled Jack as she rubbed her hand against the darkening red line bisecting her throat. Garrus shot her a warning look, standing nearby to restrain her if need be.

Running a shaky hand through her hair, Miranda struggled to control her breathing. "_She_," Miranda spat, waving an angry hand at Jack, "has singlehandedly jeopardized the entire mission. And the fate of the damned galaxy."

"You sure about that, princess? Sure it's not about how I just lost you your little sex toy?" Miranda's nails dug into the palm of her hand. "And how the fuck is this entirely my fault?" the other woman shouted, glaring just as hatefully back at Miranda. "You don't have a damn clue about what happened out there."

"She's right," Jacob affirmed, settling a pointed gaze on Miranda, who still would not keep her eyes off Jack. "We don't have time for accusations. We need to know what happened out there so we can figure out where to go from here."

"Agreed," Mordin said. He had remained silent throughout the chaos that had just erupted between the two women, but he spoke up nonetheless. "Communications links were unstable. Explanation needs to be fully-detailed." He looked towards Jack, who had settled to scowling with her arms crossed instead of throwing Miranda murderous glances.

She rolled her eyes when Miranda continued to glare at her, but when she spoke, Jack's face showed just a hint of regret. "We didn't lose Shepard," she said gruffly. "Not exactly."

Mordin nodded in consent. "Not lost. _Taken_."

"By whom?" Tali asked in trepidation.

The defiant look on her face disappeared, and Jack's gaze faltered to the floor. "The Collectors."

.

.

.

She dozed lightly, as if her mind could not stop vacillating between sharp consciousness and the blurry haze of slumber, hesitant to make a decision.

A swift, brutal kick to the stomach made the decision for her.

"Fuck," Shepard gasped, curling immediately into the fetal position and clutching at her gut. It felt like all of her insides had been launched up into her esophagus, like someone had taken a bat to her midsection, going for the homerun. She felt nauseous. She felt suffocated. And for the first time in forever, she felt afraid, once all of her fuzzy surroundings clicked into sharp focus.

The cold, hard ground beneath her was rough, a slimy dark brown covered in splatters of strange gray matter. The space was incredibly vast and cavernous. She could hear the sounds of her ragged breaths echoing. Shepard chanced a look upwards to confirm her suspicions, and when sights of what seemed like millions of orange-yellow pods endlessly spotting the ceiling, she knew exactly where she was: the 'abandoned' Collector ship from before.

"Shepard," rumbled a deep, growling voice. "I see that you are finally awake."

"That…tends to happen…when you kick someone that's asleep," she grunted, struggling to quell the urge to vomit.

The Collector, whose fragmented body glowed with an eerie burnt orange, and eyes lit up like bright headlights, chuckled easily. Shepard's heart sank.

"Human. Despite being nothing but a thorn in my side, I must admit your species does provide rather…_interesting_ amusement," Harbinger noted, circling Shepard's prone form like a vulture over a carcass. The chirps of the Collectors watching the exchange seemed to taunt Shepard, their eyes not burning with the incandescent glow that the Harbinger-Collector's did, but shining with cruelty just the same.

With a nod of his head, Harbinger signaled for two observing Collectors to hoist Shepard to her feet, restraining her arms behind her back. Shepard grunted as the sockets of her shoulders complained, the muscles of her body strained and stretched in protest, and her weary legs refused to support her weight alone.

"I suppose it's a fair trade for how _amused_ I'm going to be when I destroy all of you, once and for all," retorted Shepard with false bravado, voice breathless.

Harbinger tutted, feigning regret and shaking his head. "Your arrogance will contribute to your species' downfall, Shepard, just as your sentimentality contributed to your own."

Silenced, Shepard could only glare.

"Did you really think sacrificing yourself for your teammates would solve anything? They will die just the same soon enough. And so will you," taunted Harbinger, the circles he wandered around Shepard growing smaller and smaller in diameter. He paused, standing right in front of her, and Shepard felt like she was staring Sovereign in the face all over again. "All of this is futile, just as your failed mission was."

"It was not a failure. We got what we wanted," Shepard said defiantly, looking Harbinger straight in his dead, glowing eyes. She could only pray that the IFF went unscathed within Mordin's suit.

Harbinger looked at her for a moment, studying her. "Oh, Shepard. But they left you behind. Abandoned you," he said with mock sympathy. "And while you say they got what they wanted, they renounced what they needed." The solemn rumble of Harbinger's voice was interrupted by the resounding slap of the solid backhand across Shepard's face. "And what they needed was _you._"

The taste of her own blood filled her mouth. Harbinger merely laughed.

.

.

.

_They came out of nowhere._

_One second Shepard was blasting the hell out of the Reaper core while Mordin and Jack did their best to keep the husks at bay; the next, the core finally exploded, glass flew everywhere, and they all were tossed on their asses from the force of the blast. The husks had all disintegrated, whether they had been destroyed by Jack's shockwaves, incinerated by Mordin's flame, or killed by the explosion itself, and the only thing between the squad and the Normandy was the smoke and the trouble of getting back in time, towing the inactive geth the entire way._

_That's when they came._

.

.

.

"We didn't know what the fuck was going on," Jack stated. "We just knew we had to get the hell out of there, and fast."

.

.

.

_The entire Reaper structure itself began to rumble and shake, a loud, groaning sound reverberating around the room, as the gravitational pull of the dwarf star started to drag the derelict ship down._

"_Move out," Shepard shouted._

_Bits from the ceiling started crumbling down, as the three of them struggled and wobbled to their feet, and the sound of thousands of heavy, echoing footsteps suddenly broke through._

"_We've got company," Jack warned as she hefted her shotgun back into her arms, already preparing to take aim at the unseen intruders. Behind her, Shepard and Mordin struggled with the dead weight of the geth as the footsteps of what seemed like an entire army grew louder and closer, almost enough to drown out the sound of the collapsing ship._

"_Who the hell…?" Shepard muttered, staring suspiciously at the foggy entrance of the room. Suddenly the smoke cleared, and so did the Commander's confusion. She dropped the geth from her grip in surprise._

"_Harbinger," she whispered._

_._

_._

_._

"I don't understand," Tali interrupted. "How-"

"We don't _know_ how they knew we were there, okay?" Jack said defensively before anyone could pin her with more accusing looks. The tattooed woman looked directly at Joker, accusingly. "And we don't know how they went undetected." He moved to protest, but Jack cut him off immediately, continuing. "The Collectors were just…there," she said flatly. "And there were a fucking ton of them."

.

.

.

_Despite busily leveling his pistol at the masses of Collectors before him, Mordin still had to voice his thoughts aloud. "Too many to kill. Outrun them? No. Blocking entrance. Distraction? Implausible, perhaps—"_

_"In case you haven't noticed, this place is collapsing. We'll all die here if you don't get the hell out of the way," Shepard shouted to the possessed Collector-turned-Harbinger._

_If Harbinger could smile, Shepard assumed that that was what it would look like on the face of a Collector. "We are limitless," he rumbled, as did the destroyed Reaper around them as it continued to crumble. "If merely one of us dies, a hundred more will replace him. But you, on the other hand…"_

_"Fuck this!" Jack shouted, letting loose a spray of shotgun shells at Harbinger._

_They merely bounced off his barrier, however, and the hundreds of Collectors simply took aim at the three of them, holding their fire._

_"Can you not see the inevitability of your fate, Shepard?" taunted Harbinger. "You will all die here. And soon, so will your entire species. You will have salvation through destruction by those infinitely your better." He paused, attempting sadness in his voice. "It is a pity, Shepard. You could have been useful."_

_Shepard looked as worried as Jack had ever seen her. The grip on her pistol tightened as hardened blue eyes stared into the dead, glowing ones of the Harbinger-Collector, and the muscles in her jaw visibly clenched._

_._

_._

_._

"She just got this weird fucking look in her eyes," Jack said softly, staring unblinkingly at a spot on the wall behind everyone else. "I still don't know what the fuck she was thinking." The crew watched her expectantly as she swallowed with difficulty. "And then she just…"

.

.

.

_The gun fell to the metal walkway with a seemingly deafening clatter._

_"Shepard, what the fuck are you doing?" hissed Jack._

_"Commander?" asked Mordin hesitantly._

_Shepard ignored them, her gaze still locked Harbinger. "I **could** be useful," she said softly, approaching the hordes of Collectors and the possessed leader with determined footsteps. "If I go with you."_

_"Shepard!" Jack yelled, stunned._

_"Stand down!" Shepard shouted without a single look back. "That's a goddamned order, Jack!" She slowed to a halt, standing in front of Harbinger with only a few meters between them. Shepard had never seen a live Collector this close, especially one possessed by Harbinger himself. The glowing eyes were just as unnerving up close as they were from a distance. He towered over her, the height advantage forcing her to look up at him. His barriers hummed from around him, the magma-like brightness beyond the cracks of his skin seeming to emanate heat. Shepard could not stop the sweat that dripped down her forehead, that doused her palms and the back of her neck. Despite her perspiration, Shepard had never felt colder or clammier._

_"Commander, must extremely advise against-" Mordin interjected nervously._

_"Here's the deal," Shepard said firmly, ignoring her teammate. "You're going to get the hell out of the way. You're going to let them leave right now, and I'm going to watch you do it," she said, gesturing towards Jack and Mordin._

_"You are arrogant, Shepard," Harbinger noted calmly._

_The smile she gave was devoid of any humor. "No. I'm telling the truth. Because I know that for whatever depraved reason, you value me. You could use me. You said so yourself." She paused for a moment, as if steeling herself for something. "I will go with you if you let them go. No funny business. No tricks. Just let them go, and you have me."_

_Jack practically foamed at the mouth, storming towards Shepard and the Collectors despite the Commander's orders. "Fuck if this isn't the stupidest idea I've ever heard, Shepard!" she growled, body already glowing blue with biotic energy. "You can't—"_

_Shepard whirled around, the look on her face the likes of which Jack had never seen. Her bright eyes spoke of determination and resignation, rage and devastation, control and helplessness; Jack suddenly felt three inches tall and twelve years old again, stuck inside a Cerberus cell and powerless. "I said," the Commander said in a soft tone that belied her conviction, "Stand down, Jack."_

_"I—"_

_Harbinger chuckled. "You realize what you are suggesting, Shepard?"_

_Jack and Mordin both felt as though they couldn't watch, felt the desire to cast their eyes downward in shame and resignation. But Shepard merely stared Harbinger directly in the eyes, and said:_

_"Yes."_

_._

_._

_._

There was dead silence throughout the conference room, and horrified looks covered the faces of all of the crew, save for Miranda's.

"You fucking bitch," Miranda hissed, her face contorted in rage. "How could you let her—"

"What the fuck else was I supposed to do?" screamed Jack in retaliation, sounding less angry and more defensive and hopeless that she had intended.

Mordin nodded. "Yes. Tried to dissuade the Commander, but—"

"It wasn't their fault, Miranda," Jacob said. "There was no other way, and Shepard made her decision."

"A damned stupid one at that," Kasumi muttered, shaking her head. "Oh, Shep."

"While most noble a sacrifice," Samara agreed calmly, "It was not very well thought out."

"Indeed," Thane murmured.

"Regardless," interrupted Garrus. "We need to do something. Shepard, if anything, bought us time. Tell me you still have the IFF," he said, turning towards Jack and Mordin.

The salarian produced the Reaper IFF from his dirtied suit, handing it to Joker wordlessly.

Tali stuttered, seeming to look for answers that none of them had. "There…but there must be something we can do," she said. "We can't… we couldn't just let her…oh, Keelah."

A wavering but strong voice broke the silence that overtook the room with a loud clear of the throat. "While Commander Shepard is-" Miranda's voice faltered here, and she visibly struggled for words. "—_gone_, I am the commanding officer aboard this ship. We don't know what they plan on doing with her—"

"The cowards might have killed her already," Grunt growled, pounding a fist in frustration.

"We don't know that," Miranda hissed in a brief loss of the composure she was so desperately trying to maintain. She breathed deeply through her nose, running a hand through her hair once again. "But…nonetheless," she said, in the same detached, harsh tone, "I…I will inform the Illusive Man immediately, and we will begin installing the IFF. You are all under my orders as of now, until—" she cleared her throat uneasily. "Until the Commander gets back," she added softly. "Dismissed."

And with that, Commanding Officer turned Acting Commander Lawson left the room without another word or another look.

.

.

.

"Insolent human. Do you see how insignificant you are, how pathetic your species is? What good was all of your resistance? Where has it led you?"

Shepard said nothing, focusing on breathing past the mind-numbing pain that consumed her, the agony that ate away at her mind. The wound on her shoulder steadily dripped blood, and her arm dangled listlessly from her side. A sadistic chuckle rasped over the sound of her ragged breathing.

"Don't you see?" boomed the deep voice. "You'll always end up on your knees, bowing before your betters." He knelt down in front of her, and she spat blood in his face in defiance.

In an instant, she felt the wind knocked out of her as he stood and swiftly kicked her in the gut, nudging her over after she jack-knifed towards the ground, grunting and feeling like throwing up. She wouldn't, though. And she wouldn't make a damn sound. She lay flat on her back, panting, while her working hand clutched uselessly at her stomach.

He towered over her, cutting an imposing, dark figure above her prone form. He lifted his foot, and let his boot rest gently against her bleeding shoulder. The slight touch alone was enough to cause white to blur the edges of Shepard's vision, but she could feel him steadily increasing the pressure as he lingered above her, and she was biting the inside of her lip so hard it bled. She would not give him the satisfaction of her cries.

"Have you nothing to say for yourself, Shepard?"

Furious blue eyes gazed defiantly up at him as she struggled to breathe, to remain conscious, but she said nothing.

If those eyes could even show expression, show emotion, they would show pity and derision. But instead, Harbinger merely said what in could only be construed as glee, "You will know pain, Shepard." With that, he put nearly all of his weight onto the foot that crushed Shepard's wounded shoulder, chuckling all the while.

Shepard screamed.

.

.

.

Miranda slumped into her office chair, telling herself that the sting of unshed tears in her eyes was only borne from the excessive amount of cigarette smoke that irritated them. She buried her hands in her hair, unblinkingly staring down the keyboard on her desk, until the door to her office opened.

"How did it go?" came the soft voice.

The Cerberus operative sighed, lifting her head up. "About as well as expected," she answered flatly. "He shouted. He chainsmoked. He threatened to fire me."

"And?" Jacob prompted, sensing that there was more.

Miranda leveled Jacob with a simple stare, her tone matter-of-fact. "And he stated that if I did not manage to get the Commander back, then on the off-chance we all survived the onslaught of the Reapers, he would terminate all Cerberus protection for Oriana. Not to mention reveal to my father where she lives and personally hand her over himself."

"Jesus," he breathed. Jacob settled onto the chair across from Miranda's desk, slumping into it as well. "Are you okay?"

Miranda clenched a fist. "How the hell do you think I am, Jacob?"

He held up a conciliatory hand. "Dumb question, I know. But about what happened before, in the conference room…"

She stiffened, a cool, detached expression coming to her face. "I admit that that was unprofessional. I would apologize to Jack if I didn't think she would kill me as soon as she saw me. It won't happen again."

Jacob looked at her dubiously. "Miranda, it's okay. You're talking to me," he said reassuringly, only to be cowed when icy blue eyes stared back at him.

"I know exactly with whom I'm speaking, Jacob. I don't need you or anyone on this ship to treat me like some grieving widow right now."

"I'm not—"

She exhaled sharply. "Operative, please continue your work on installing the new weaponry for the ship. And on your way back to the armory, check with EDI and update me on the progress of the IFF installation in approximately two hours."

Jacob hesitated to leave for a moment, looking unsure. "Miranda…"

When she looked at him again, it was like staring into the eyes of the woman he met years ago, devoid of emotion. "You have your orders, Jacob."

He nodded, biting back a sigh. "Yes, ma'am."

.

.

.

"Do you see, Shepard?" Harbinger asked, toying with the particle beam in his hands. "That little flesh wound I gave you earlier," he said, gesturing towards the caked blood on her shoulder, "is nothing compared to what I will do to you next."

"Go…fuck…yourself," Shepard gasped, struggling to sit up. It hurt to even think.

"I do not do this for my own entertainment," Harbinger reasoned, watching her as she managed to crawl the few feet over to the wall, leaning against it and panting heavily.

"Could've fooled me," she whispered, her voice rough from screaming. One of her eyes was swollen shut, and dried blood on her split lip made it difficult to speak. Her ribs creaked as she shifted, trying to find a position that didn't cause her more pain. There was none.

A deep chuckle resonated through the empty room. "Everything has its purpose, Shepard, even if you refuse to believe it."

"Like how destroying humanity has a purpose?" Shepard asked sarcastically. "Save it. Hearing you talk is more torture than the little love-taps you keep giving me," she taunted.

Harbinger shook his head, not rising to the bait. "To begin anew, all must be destroyed," he said ominously.

She snorted, a raspy, forced laugh escaping her. "So that's why you value me? As a little toy to kick around? Why didn't you just '_destroy'_ me on the spot? Aim for the head this time. Shoulder wounds aren't necessarily fatal, you know."

Laughing again, Harbinger approached Shepard's sitting form. "Oh, Shepard. You do not yet understand what plans I have for you."

"Enlighten me then."

He knelt so that his gaze was level with hers. "Your physical form is not what I value most," Harbinger explained. "It is your mind, Shepard. And soon, I will have control over it," he said gravely, bringing the particle beam up to her face, shoving it against her chin.

Despite the gun against her face, Shepard maintained her defiant, one-eyed glare. "Like hell you will," she hissed. "You'll have to kill me first."

"Something like that," Harbinger rumbled agreeably. "Remember, Shepard," he said, pulling the gun away. "To begin anew, all must be destroyed."

With that, he flipped the gun around and slammed the butt of it sharply against Shepard's skull with a crack.


	5. Chapter 5

**5.**

Liara T'Soni had always seemed a bit hesitant, a little cautious, and more than anything, supremely reserved.

Not anymore, it appeared. The past two years, as well as her assumption of the role of Shadow Broker, changed things, as did Shepard's recent abduction.

"I don't know if I—I don't have the time for this, Feron," she argued anxiously, pacing around the room as the drell sat mutely, observing her from the couch. "Goddess knows I…I want to, but…" Liara's eyebrows furrowed in distress, and she wringed her hands for a moment.

"You already know what I think, Liara." Feron's voice was as calm as it always seemed, self-assured and wise. She kind of hated it right now.

"This is an entire base full of operations," Liara huffed, still pacing. "I can't…I can't just leave it, no matter what the duration of my absence will be. Even just a day will cause utter chaos."

"More than the chaos that will erupt if Shepard is lost to the Collectors forever?" asked Feron. He stood, gently grabbing Liara's arm to stop her frantic pacing. "She needs you, Liara. I would have thought you cared enough to—"

Dark blue eyes flashed as she wrenched her arm from his grasp. "Don't you _ever_ suggest that I do not care about Commander Shepard. You don't know the first thing about…about…" Liara paused as the anger dissolved from her veins and instead, became the heavy weight of melancholy, of regret, of things that once were. Her gaze dropped to the floor, avoidant of Feron's.

The drell said nothing, waiting expectantly. Then, he hid a small smile as Liara surged past him with the fierce steps of a determined asari towards the communications hub.

"Operative Lawson? I have come to a decision. Send the Normandy's shuttle as soon as you can—I will help you."

.

.

.

Another kick launched her into the wall for the fifth time that day, and she no longer had the energy to cry out.

"This…accomplishes nothing…" she gasped, struggling to get to her knees.

Harbinger's slow, determined footsteps echoed closer to her. "On the contrary," he said confidently, bringing the gun heavily down on her back as she hunched over on all fours.

There was a crack, the distinct thud of an object forcibly meeting flesh, another bruise to add to the litany that already marked her body. Shepard's chin snapped painfully against the floor as her limbs folded underneath the blow, sending her to the ground.

She felt a molar dislodge, and she spat it out with a grunt, a mixture of blood and saliva. "If this is how you gain someone's loyalty…" she rasped out sarcastically. "You're less intelligent than we thought."

He grabbed her by the throat, hoisting her up and slamming her against the wall. "Your words are meaningless, Shepard," he droned, eyes glowing as she weakly struggled to claw his hand off of her throat. Blue eyes bulged and turned red as the flow of oxygen refused to pass through her airways, as her lungs screamed for much-needed air. "We will break you. You will know nothing but pain, Shepard." The hand squeezed tighter around her throat. "And when your feeble human mind knows nothing else, we will re-create it for one purpose. You will serve us."

She stopped struggling and all her limbs stilled. The blurry haze of unconsciousness began to overtake her, the edges of her vision turning white and fuzzy. With the last of her strength, Shepard heaved a kick towards the possessed Collector's midsection.

It wasn't as strong as it would be normally, but it was enough for her boot to lodge momentarily in Harbinger's abdomen, forcing the wind out of him and causing him to drop her painfully to the floor.

Shepard laughed weakly as she watched Harbinger clutch at his stomach for a moment, hunched over. Her laughter stopped, however, when he stood after regaining his composure, and his heavy steps took him over to the one door in the room, the one that she repeatedly tried to escape from to no avail. He opened the door with force, slamming it angrily against the wall as it bounced on its hinges.

"Bring them," he barked to an unseen Collector, who handed him something in response after a moment. Harbinger nodded, shutting the door and turning towards Shepard once again.

Shepard eyed him wearily, staring at the objects in his hands as he approached. Once she realized what they were, her split lip turned upwards in a half-smirk.

"Have to tie up little old me?" she taunted, gesturing towards the four giant metal cuffs attached with chains he carried in his hands.

Harbinger didn't reply as he came to a stop in front of her slumped form, kneeling down so that he was once again eye-level with her. Shepard struggled of course, squirming and trying to kick at him, but she was too weak and he was too strong. His large, alien hands roughly grabbed at hers, catching them in a vice-like grip until he cinched the cold metal cuffs around her wrists, connected by a chain. He moved towards her feet, and when she lashed out again with her boots, he pitched a solid elbow against her face, hitting her square on the bridge of her nose.

"Fuck!" Shepard cried out. Her nose cracked under the blow with a sickening crunch, and Shepard's eyes watered as she struggled to breathe past the pain and the blood, thick and viscous, that slowly filled her nostrils. Dazed, Shepard could not put up much of a struggle any longer, and Harbinger snapped the metal bands around her ankles with ease and a chuckle.

"Soon, Shepard, you will give in," Harbinger finally spoke. "The human will is not as strong as your species likes to pretend it is. Even yours."

Blood dribbled down her face, down past her lips until it dripped in slow droplets off of her pointed chin and onto her dirtied shirt. "I…really wish…you'd….shut the hell up…" she mumbled, eyes trying hard to focus.

A rumbling laugh deep from within Harbinger's chest burst forth. "You shall not worry about that any longer, Shepard."

"Leaving so soon?" she said hazily as one of her eyes already began to swell shut, darkening with the hint of a bruise setting in.

"I have left you with a gift," he said, gesturing towards the heavy shackles and chains that restricted much movement.

"How…nice…"

Harbinger stood up to leave, heading towards the door with an easy stride. "I think they will surprise you, Shepard."

Shepard watched the door shut, the dim light from the hallway peeking through the cracks, the small shaft of light her only brightness in the dark, moldy room. She wondered briefly about Harbinger's mysterious comment, lifting one of her hands with effort, as the cuffs were quite heavy.

One blue eye regarded the thick metal band curiously, until it hummed for a moment.

Suddenly, a current of electricity radiated outwards from all four of the bands, travelling speedily through her veins and electrocuting every molecule within her. Shepard screamed, as the voltage seemed to tear every cell in her body apart, the buzz of energy jolting her and seizing her body, wrenching every part of her in different directions as it struggled to contain all of the electricity surging through her. Her body contorted as her wrists and ankles burned and buzzed, as her throat screamed itself hoarse.

After what seemed like years but in fact was only a few seconds, Shepard's body had had enough, and she blissfully fell into darkness, the echoes of her own screams her personal lullaby.

.

.

.

"Acting Commander Lawson, the Reaper IFF is almost fully installed, but I suggest that for right now, you use the shuttle to complete any missions," EDI said.

Miranda nodded absently as she stared at the galaxy map, studying it. The glow of the Omega 4 Relay burned bright pinkish-red ominously back at her. "We will only be needing the shuttle to retrieve Dr. T'Soni from Hagalaz. Otherwise, I see no other missions that need completion as of right now, EDI," she murmured. "However, continue launching the probes on all nearby planets for minerals. We'll need them to finish upgrading."

"Yes, Acting Commander."

"Operative?" Kelly Chambers' hesitant voice broke through Miranda's perusal of the map. "I—I mean, Acting Commander."

Miranda looked up, narrowing icy blue eyes at the yeoman. She was in no mood to deal with anyone, much less the last woman that had kissed Shepard that wasn't her. "Yes?"

"Shepard's private terminal…" the redhead hedged awkwardly.

Huffing irritably, Miranda bit back the urge to roll her eyes, and instead, placed an impatient hand on her hip. "What about it, Yeoman Chambers?"

"She told me should there ever be a need for it, you were the only one that could access her private terminal."

Dark eyebrows quirked in surprise. "She did?" Miranda asked. "Why?"

Kelly shrugged a little nervously. "She said being prepared for the worst was important." The yeoman paused, as if re-thinking her next words. "And that you probably looked at her messages anyway."

At that, Miranda had to quirk a little smile in amusement. She never had, but it did seem like something she would do. And something that Shepard would guess. Despite her brief respite from it, the heaviness of Shepard's absence weighed in once again at the thought of the Commander. She sighed. "Thank you, yeoman. I suppose I'll take a look at it."

Nodding, Kelly went back to whatever work she was doing on her datapad, trying to appear busy in front of the intimidating superior officer. Miranda stepped away from the galaxy map and walked over to Shepard's private terminal in curiosity.

Accessing the terminal without a hitch, Miranda browsed through Shepard's inbox and outbox, mostly for any pertinent information regarding their mission or Cerberus. She hadn't found anything particularly interesting or anything she hadn't already known, until she found herself looking through Shepard's archived messages.

"Oriana?" she mumbled in surprise. She clicked it open, and read the message her little sister had apparently sent the Commander.

"_**From: Oriana (Lawson)**_

_**I hope this is the right Commander Shepard. I'm Oriana. My sister only told me a little, but I don't think it occurred to her that I'm as smart as she is. **_Here, Miranda let out an undignified little snort. _**I poked around a little and found an information broker who got me this address.**_

_**I got to thank her, but I never got to thank you for helping me. My parents don't really understand it, but I know how much Miranda did, how many little things over the years were her looking out for me. I'm not going to tell them. I still want to go to school and get some degrees. But I wanted you to know that I know you saved me. **_Her heart felt like it was getting squeezed: Miranda's small smile was a proud one.

_**I had a guardian angel all these years. I don't know if my sister has anybody. She said she's working for you, and it was pretty clear that you were doing something dangerous. Make sure she comes back alive, okay?**_

_**-Oriana**_

_**PS: Don't tell her I sent you this. It would just make her angry.**_

_**PPS: Miranda, quit looking at Shepard's messages. Oh, don't act like you don't. It's what I'd do.**_

She had to laugh at that. But just as suddenly, Miranda felt her eyes sting with the shameful burn of tears that she refused to let fall for what seemed like the millionth time in the past few days.

Miranda blinked rapidly in order to stave off the tears that threatened her reputation, and continued clicking through the Commander's messages. Curiously, she noticed that Shepard's outbox displayed a reply to her little sister, and naturally, she opened it. The Commander gave her permission, she justified to herself, as the little niggle of guilt coursed through her when she began to read.

_**From: (The right) Commander Shepard**_

_**You would be surprised: your sister spoke nothing but your praises, especially how smart you are. You've probably already guessed she's being secretive for your own benefit.**_

_**I hope you are well, and that you and your family like your new home. If you're anything like your sister (which, of course, you must be), I know you'll do superbly in school and get more than "some" degrees, but good luck with your endeavors all the same.**_

_**As I told your sister, you don't need to thank me, although I appreciate it. Miranda was the one who orchestrated everything and did everything to save and protect you as she always has.**_

_**She is the best guardian angel anyone could ever have, and you have my word that I won't let anything happen to her (although I have to admit, she's probably a lot tougher than I am and won't need my help).**_

_**It was wonderful hearing from you. I impatiently await the day Miranda stops being rude and properly introduces us.**_

_**-Commander Darby Shepard**_

_**PS: I'll try my best, but if you've ever seen her angry, you know she's a force to be reckoned with.**_

_**PPS: It seems now I have two sneaky Lawson women to keep my eye on. Damn genius intelligence…**_

Exhaling a shaky breath, Miranda braced both hands against the terminal and leaned her weight against them, feeling a little weak as she thought of a charming, teasing smirk and bright blue eyes and just how much she missed them.

.

.

.

He had mercifully taken the cuffs off once she had passed out too many times. Her wrists and ankles had been rubbed raw in addition to burned by the electric shocks, but she was no less grateful for their removal.

She couldn't count how many times she'd lost consciousness. Everything hurt: every bone, every muscle, every **cell** hurt, enough to make it difficult to breathe. The ribs she could tell were broken did not help, nor did the bruises or cuts that littered her body.

There was blood everywhere: on her tattered clothes, on her body, on the floor. It was all hers, she realized, with muted horror as the tang of iron clouded her nostrils, the stickiness covered her skin, the bitter acidity coated her tongue.

"Stop," she gasped, as she anticipated another blow, another shock, another cut, another burn. It was her first word spoken in two days. "Please...just stop..."

She could not tell whether the voice that spoke next was real or imagined, if someone actually spoke or if it was just her mind playing tricks on her again. Nonetheless, she heard the words loud and clear: "Do you believe? Do you see? Do you understand the truth of reality?"

"Yes," she sobbed. "Yes."

"Then tell me, Shepard. Tell me why you must do what I say from now on. Why humanity must be destroyed. Why you must help me do so."

"Because..." she said, her voice hoarse from screaming. Something tickled in the back of her mind, another niggling voice that seemed kinder, gentler. She hesitated, just for a moment, before a boot stomped on one of her hands, crushing the fingers beneath it with a sickening crunch. Shepard howled, and the small voice disappeared in the face of her suffering, in the face of the growling roar in her ears.

"Say it!" The voice demanded, ignoring Shepard's muffled efforts to curb her cries.

"Because..." Shepard whispered. "To begin anew, all must be destroyed."

Shepard could practically hear the smirk in Harbinger's voice. "She is ready."

She waited for the words that she knew would come, the words that the little voice in her head, the kinder one, had prepared her for, and she braced herself as best as she could when Harbinger next spoke.

"Assuming direct control."

.

.

.

"The Acting Commander is not in her office, Jeff," EDI said upon Joker's request to speak with Miranda.

He sighed. "Where the hell is she then?"

"Readings show that her biorhythms place her within Commander Shepard's cabin."

His ire dissipating from his body, Joker shook his head. "Okay. Connect me through to the Commander's room."

.

.

.

Miranda sat at Shepard's desk, touching a finger to the model ships Shepard so childishly liked to collect. To admit it was somewhat cute was something Miranda felt she would never do, up until now.

Now, as Shepard's clean, unique scent enveloped her, as she gently traced her fingertips down the case that held Shepard's damaged old dog tags, as she looked at the bed that she and Shepard had shared just nights ago…Miranda believed she would tell Shepard everything she never said if she got her back.

_When_, she corrected herself. When she got her back.

"Miranda?" Joker's voice broke through the haze of reminiscence, and she looked up sharply.

"What is it, Joker?" she asked, a little irritated at the interruption.

"The shuttle's back. Liara's here."

.

.

.

Shepard's body glowed and crackled with energy as her veins were set on fire. She grunted, hunching over in the fetal position as the energy seemed to emanate from all of her organs outwards, turning her inside out. Her mind screamed in pain as darkness seemed to eat away at it, Harbinger's words echoing over and over again until she was no longer just hearing them. They were inside of her now, the deep voice taking residence in her mind, a black cloud overshadowing her brain as Shepard receded further into the dark spaces of her mind, trying to escape.

Harbinger was there: she could feel him, his presence, as another little voice kept insisting, kept whispering something she could not decipher at first. As Shepard clutched at her head in pain, groaning and biting back screams as Harbinger continued to possess her, the little voice kept repeating itself even more insistently. Somewhere, somehow, she followed the voice in her head to a place that Harbinger had not reached, and Shepard created a cage within her mind, trapping herself within it, but most importantly, keeping Harbinger out of it.

Suddenly, it was all over, and Shepard felt her body move and get up without her command, seemingly healed from all wounds and regenerated as brand new. Shepard watched the world from the safe haven in her mind, and looked on with eyes that were no longer under her control.

"It's time to prepare," she said in her own voice, but it wasn't really _her_ that wanted to say that.

Shepard strained to hear the reassuring little voice again, tried once more to decipher the words that it kept repeating. Finally, _finally_, she was able to hear past Harbinger's rumbling, hissing commands and to just listen.

_You can do this, you can do this, you can do this,_ the little voice said. It sounded unbelievably familiar, and despite being unable to place it, Shepard trusted it entirely. Despite being trapped within her own mind, Shepard suddenly felt a little sliver of hope breaking through the darkness that clouded her.

The hope was dashed immediately however, when her body took her to a control room filled with Collectors, awaiting her commands.

"Activate the transmissions, and pinpoint the location of the IFF," her voice said firmly, commanding the Collectors around her. "It is time to locate the Normandy and deal with the rest of the crew."

_You possess insurmountable strength and will. Do not doubt yourself. Do not be afraid. You can do this, _the little voice reassured her.

But as Shepard watched from within the cage of her own mind, she wasn't so sure she could.


	6. Chapter 6

**6.**

_"Wait, what?"_

_Captain David Anderson wanted to roll his eyes, but instead opted for a fond smile. "Shepard, I'm serious. Udina's not going to leave his office until the conference at 10 pm tonight. If you've got the Normandy all ready to go, I suggest you have the little bit of fun that you can before all hell breaks loose."_

_Shepard raised an unconvinced dark eyebrow. "I don't know…" Her eyes searched the room until she found her target standing quietly in the corner of the lounge, watching the dance floor attentively, a look of scientific curiosity on her features._

_"She looks like she could use a little fun," Anderson said, smirking knowingly as he tossed his head at the lone figure to the side of the dance floor. "Why don't you ask her to dance?"_

_Instantly, Shepard reddened, much to her chagrin. "I…um…"_

_Anderson's dark brown eyes softened, and Shepard was reminded why she always thought of him as the father she never had. "Commander, you know as well as I do that the life of a soldier is dangerous, and often cut short." He took a sip of his drink before licking his lips, and taking on the firm, authoritative tone he always had when giving out commands. "Talk to her before you may not have the chance to, Shepard."_

_Gathering up her resolve, Shepard nodded stiffly before haltingly approaching the target of their discussion. Rubbing at her neck with a sheepish smile, she met curious blue eyes with her own, the loud bass of the music thumping heavily in her chest, mingling with her pounding heartbeat._

_"I…ah…would you like to dance?" Her voice cracked and she felt like dying of embarrassment, but a beautiful smile bloomed on the face before hers, and a warm hand gently placed itself in hers._

_Liara held back a nervous laugh. "I…I would like that."_

.

.

.

_"The fuck is this?" Jack asked as she instinctively caught whatever object Shepard had thrown at her casually._

_Shepard shrugged, leaning against the wall. "Saw it at one of the shops at the Citadel."_

_Jack frowned, running her hands over the dark leather-bound book. She opened it curiously, but all of the pages were blank, the faded yellow pages crisp and thick, but blank. "There's nothing in it," she said dryly._

_"Well, yeah. Because you haven't written anything in it yet," Shepard said as if it were glaringly obvious._

_"What the hell am I supposed to write in it, dipshit?"_

_Again, Shepard shrugged, and Jack's natural impatience reared its ugly head. "Whatever you write in that other ratty notebook of yours."_

_Recoiling instantly, Jack scowled. "What the fuck, Shepard? Have you been going through my shit?"_

_Shepard rolled her eyes, knowing that giving someone like Jack a gift wasn't going to be easy. She held up her hands in a conciliatory gesture. "Don't flatter yourself, kid."_

_She hid a smile as she watched Jack's face go through a series of expressions, from suspicious, confused, and then wary._

_"You're not as slick as you think you are, Jack. You don't shove it away fast enough sometimes when I surprise and grace you with my presence," Shepard said. Noticing Jack's still present glare, she continued. "I don't know what you put in there. I just thought the other one looked like a piece of shit, and you needed a new one." Shepard flashed her typical half-smile in hopes to calm Jack's anger._

_"Yeah, well," Jack groused, for lack of anything better to say, because honestly, her other notebook full of scribbles was getting kind of full. Shepard didn't need the ego boost, however, and Jack sniffed, huffing, "As a warning then. Don't go through my shit."_

_Gracefully, Shepard tried to stifle her triumphant smirk behind a hand, but the glinting blue of her eyes gave her away. "Right," she said as fondly as one would say to a grouchy five-year-old. "Does that mean you like it?"_

_"Yeah, yeah, it's great," Jack mumbled, intentionally deepening her scowl and lowering her voice to a deadpan. "I love it. I'll sit up late at night writing things like, "Dear Diary, today was like, the best day ever," with hearts and rainbows all over it."_

_Shepard barked out a laugh. "Oh, Jack," she said, shaking her head. "Don't ever change." At Jack's confused, stricken look, her smile instantly faded. "What is it?" she asked in concern._

_Jack shrugged, keeping her eyes to the floor. "No… no one's ever said shit like that to me before," she admitted._

_Shepard had a hard time resisting the urge to place a friendly hand on Jack's shoulder for fear of it being ripped off, so she settled for sitting down next to Jack, forcing the other woman to look her in the eye._

_"I mean it," she said, smiling._

_Clearing her throat, Jack tore her eyes away from Shepard's. "Yeah, well," she said gruffly, "That's enough sappy shit for today. Get outta here."_

_Nodding, Shepard stood up with a grin. "You're right, sentimentality is ridiculous. I'll see you later. Don't forget I hate you," she said cheerfully, "and I certainly don't consider you a friend or anything gross like that."_

_Jack simply rolled her eyes, purely for Shepard's amusement as the other woman climbed up the stairs. She paused at the top, watching Jack silently as she ran her hands over the cover gently, almost reverently, and Shepard knew she had done something right._

_._

_._

_._

_"You're not half-bad, Shep," Kasumi said tearfully, carefully holding Keiji's graybox to her chest. "Thank you for this."_

_Shepard turned away from the control panel after setting the shuttle to auto-pilot towards the Normandy. Settling down on the couch across from Kasumi, she fiddled with the pads of her gloves absently. "I may not be fully Alliance anymore, but if this information gets in the wrong hands…Well. Let's just say I'm trusting you on this, Kasumi," she said, eyes distant._

_The thief nodded, observing Shepard's expression grow more absent, wistful. "You've lost someone too, haven't you?" she asked._

_Momentarily startled, Shepard looked at her in muted surprise until she heaved a large sigh, scrubbing a hand through her hair. "I've lost a lot of someones." Images of the various foster homes she passed through as a child on Earth flashed through her mind, along with the hateful expression on Ashley Williams' face when she realized Shepard was with Cerberus, the sound of Kaidan's resigned voice as he told Shepard to save Williams instead over a crackled intercom connection, the break in Liara's soft, husky voice as she admitted that she missed Shepard after they defeated the Shadow Broker. Shepard blinked, shaking her head as if to shake the thoughts from her mind before lifting her lips in an attempt at a smile. "But we all have," she shrugged._

_Kasumi knew deflection when she saw it, and she reached across the space between them to cover Shepard's gloved hand with her warm bare one. She squeezed the larger hand in hers gently._

_"Yes. But it doesn't make it any easier, does it?"_

_Shepard gave a sad smile in return, squeezing Kasumi's hand back. "No. But sometimes a good friend can."_

_A pleasant, understanding smile bloomed on Kasumi's face, shining brightly despite the shadows that played across her face._

_._

_._

_._

_Woozily, Shepard tried to get the world to stop spinning by uselessly reaching up with her hand, as if she could grab the ceiling and keep it still. The hard concrete beneath her prone body was cold, and as she flailed her arm trying to sit up, her bones creaked and her muscles complained._

_A soft hand, pale white, firmly gripped hers, holding onto it as another pair of hands eased her back to the floor._

_"Shepard," the accented voice said almost frantically. Miranda's flawless face came into view, hovering over Shepard with a concerned look on her face. "Are you all right?"_

_"That missile hit her pretty hard," Garrus noted, looking down at her with concern. "She's got a head wound," he said, which explained the sticky feeling Shepard felt on the back of her skull. "We need to get her out of here."_

_Everything was blurry, and the world was still spinning. Shepard thought she saw something glistening in Miranda's clear blue eyes (stars, she thought, Miranda was just so damn pretty), but maybe that was just the concussion talking._

_"Just rest, Shepard, we're getting the shuttle here now," Miranda murmured, still leaning over her, close enough that Shepard could smell the subtle perfume the operative always wore, close enough that she could see the flecks of gold in her irises that looked like galaxies all their own._

_It felt like the first time she woke up after dying, with the same beautiful woman looking concerned over her, a hand clutching at hers until Wilson's double dose of sedative kicked in, leaving Shepard's heavy hand feeling cold._

_But this time, Shepard noted as she faded into blissful unconsciousness once more, Miranda didn't let go._

_._

_._

_._

_"You're probably the only friend I have left in this universe," Garrus noted as he fiddled with some weaponry schematics._

_Shepard laughed, but it was self-deprecating. "You're probably one of the few old friends that I have that doesn't believe I'm a traitor." Ashley Williams' hateful, distrusting expression filled her mind._

_Garrus turned towards her, eyeing her. "Heard about that. But I wouldn't be here if I didn't trust you with my life, Shepard."_

_"Look what that's gotten you," she bit out, gesturing towards his scarred face. "Maybe I don't really know what I'm doing at all, just pulling stuff out of my ass and pretending like I've got a clue how to fix this."_

_"Probably," Garrus agreed with a grin. "But at least you're pretending with style."_

_Shepard barked out a laugh, the stern look on her face disappearing. "Thanks, Garrus."_

_He half-smiled, the scars still healing. "Probably the best too," he said, voice quiet._

_"Best what?"_

_"Friend I've had."_

_._

_._

_._

_Shepard cleared her throat. "Here," she said, shoving a small data disc into Miranda's hands._

_"What's this?" she squinted, looking at the blank cover._

_"Just…just play it. Maybe you'll guess," Shepard said with a small smile._

_Confused but interested, Miranda pressed a few commands into her omni-tool and suddenly, beautiful, soft music surrounded her. Her brows furrowed until her eyes lit up in recognition. "Nielsen's Fifth. You remembered." Her smile was brighter than Shepard had ever seen it, until she looked confused once more. "This doesn't sound like the version I have…" She strained her ears to listen more carefully. "Wait. Is this…? It can't be."_

_Shepard's grin was infectious. "Leonard Bernstein's recorded version with the New York Philharmonic from the 1960's? Why, yes, it very well could be."_

_"There's only a handful of copies of this recording in existence, many of which are in museums. How did you…?"_

_"You're not the only one with a lot of connections, Miss Lawson," Shepard teased, delighting in the surprise in the normally unflappable operative's face. "Do you like it?"_

_"Like it? Shepard, this is amazing. I've…" Miranda faltered a bit. "Nobody's ever given me a gift like this before," she said, her eyes shining with something Shepard couldn't decipher. To be honest, Miranda couldn't even remember the last time someone gave her a gift._

_Shepard felt her neck redden, and she rubbed it shyly. "Ah, well. It was nothing." Her smile turned mischievous, however, and she added, "And maybe if you actually told people when your birthday was, you'd get gifts more often." At Miranda's surprised look, she shrugged. "A little bird told me. Well, a little AI bird named EDI. Happy birthday."_

_Miranda couldn't remember the last time someone had said those words to her either, especially with such honesty and warmth. Uncharacteristically, she moved forward to wrap her arms around Shepard's in a hug, smiling a little at Shepard's poorly hidden mewl of surprise._

_"Thank you," Miranda said, looking into the slightly taller woman's eyes._

_If both of them saw the other's blush, neither of them said anything._

_._

_._

_._

"_To those that we care about, let us never take them for granted," Shepard said with a grin, raising her glass to Dr. Chakwas's._

_"Hell, to you, Shepard. Our immovable center, our unstoppable force," the older woman smiled. Shepard blushed. "The best Commander there ever was."_

_"Oh, come on, Doc, you know-"_

_._

_._

_._

Her mind blanked.

"Wait, what the fuck?" Shepard cried out in the darkness as she failed to remember what happened next, no matter how hard she tried. She grasped at other memories, as she had been doing all day in order to keep herself sane, to keep herself safe from Harbinger's presence in the outskirts of her mind. But as quickly as she conjured up mental images from her past, her fond memories and her horrible ones, they drifted away in a fog. "What the fuck's happening?"

_You are still not yet safe here. You must not open your mind further to the intruder, or else it too will become part of him._

Horrified, Shepard still scrambled to recall memories, to get the only things that kept her going in the hellhole of her indoctrinated mind. But the harder she tried, the foggier it all became, the memories fading away from her rapidly like sand. And like sand, the harder she struggled to hold onto them, the faster they escaped her grasp, dribbling to the floor into tiny granules impossible to pick up.

"No," she said desperately. "Make it stop…How do I…?"

_You must remember to forget, _the little voice said calmly. _Remember to forget, and you shall soon be able to sing the songs of your past once more. But thinking these thoughts is like creating a beacon for Harbinger to seek out. You must stop this._

Shepard wanted to punch something, but the internal cage she had mentally created had no walls, no physical meaning. On the outside, her body continued to issue commands to the Collectors surrounding her, and Shepard could only watch helplessly from her mind's eye.

_Miranda. _She wanted Miranda here. Miranda could do this better than she could, Miranda would be so much smarter than her and never have given up like she idiotically had, Miranda with her long dark hair – was it black or dark brown? – and her gorgeous eyes – gray or blue or … brown? She couldn't remember.

"Fuck!" Shepard shouted, her mental voice echoing the cavernous blank space around her. _Remember to forget, and you will prevail, _the little voice reminded sagely, and soon it went silent as well, leaving Shepard completely alone once more.

She sat in silence, trying to think of nothing at all, as she watched and felt her physical self grin maliciously, barking at the Collectors. One of them handed her a datapad in response, and Shepard curled into herself further as her eyes took in the glowing green symbols in front of her:

_ETA: 0700 solar hours._

_Destination: SSV Normandy._

She heard Harbinger's rumbling laugh echo through her, and she was forced to laugh along with him.

.

.

.

Liara shifted uncomfortably on her feet. "I really do not mind sleeping in a sleeping pod or in the crew's quarters," she reminded. "This is unnecessary."

The perpetual scowl on Miranda's face did not budge; she wasn't exactly enjoying this either. "There is no more space in the quarters, and the Commander would insist that you have your own room," Miranda said between clenched teeth, haltingly pressing the keypad to open the airlocks in front of her. "This is the only one left."

Hesitating, Liara stepped slowly into the room.

Shepard's room.

She found herself overwhelmed by the scent that was undoubtedly Shepard's and felt a wave of conflicting emotions overcome her. The cabin was decidedly empty, but echoes of Shepard's presence were everywhere: her familiar messy handwriting on sticky notes around her desk, the miniature space ships she liked to collect, the dog tags Liara had recovered for her…

Liara felt invasive and unwelcome, uncomfortable and heartbroken, looking at all of Shepard's things, knowing that she'd have to sleep in Shepard's bed, surrounded by the woman's pleasant scent that would bring about unpleasant memories.

A cold voice broke her contemplative silence. "The layout of the Normandy is mostly the same. I trust you can find your way around, and if not, any member of the crew will be around to help you. We also have an AI onboard that can direct you." Miranda's expressionless face looked just as it had years ago when Liara first met her, but something in her eyes looked different, as though a sliver of some emotion was so strong that it couldn't be restrained, even by the perfect Ms. Lawson's incredible self-control.

Memories flashed through Liara's mind, an unclear jumble that had no connection, until they suddenly all intertwined, weaved themselves into a tangled web that still, somehow, despite its complexity, made perfect sense.

.

.

.

_The surge of energy it had taken to end the Shadow Broker's life took its toll on Liara: it seemed as though she could not catch her breath no matter how much she panted. She stumbled over to Shepard, who merely watched her as she extended her hand to help the Commander to her feet._

_Blue eyes so much lighter than her own shone in admiration back at her, and Liara could barely hold back the rush of emotion that she always felt when Shepard looked at her like that, and instantly, it was like nothing had ever changed, like Shepard hadn't forced Liara to abandon her on the original Normandy, like Shepard hadn't been stupid and gotten herself killed, like Liara hadn't spent the past two years feeling like dying herself, out of loneliness and devastation, as she slept alone when all she could think about was how it felt to sleep with Shepard's arms around her again._

_But Shepard blinked, a clarity coming to her crystal eyes, and just like that, the moment was gone._

_"Miranda," she rasped out, squeezing Liara's hand warmly before practically tossing it aside to tend to the unconscious woman lying a few feet away._

_As Liara tried to get her heart rate back to normal, she could only watch mutely as Shepard fussed over Miranda, ignoring the woman's muted protests, and Liara wondered if maybe it was just her that hadn't changed at all._

_._

_._

_._

_"I miss you," Liara admitted, the memory of Shepard's lips pressed desperately against hers still fresh. "But it's been two years. Just because we…well, it doesn't mean we still have to. The kiss was just…just adrenaline from the fight. It doesn't have to mean anything."_

_Heavy footsteps echoed through the room as Shepard stepped closer to her, taking her hands into hers. "I miss you too, Liara," she whispered, before she tugged the other woman into an embrace that for some reason, made Liara want to weep. "Two years is a long time."_

_Nodding into Shepard's shoulder, Liara's voice grew hoarse. "Almost too long, do you think?"_

_There was a pregnant silence until Shepard's quiet voice broke it. "Maybe," she admitted. "I don't know. I don't even know who I am anymore. I can't recognize myself, sometimes."_

"_And I'm certainly not the same person that I was, either." Unconsciously, Liara's arms squeezed Shepard to her closer._

"_I didn't mean…"_

_"It's true though, Commander."_

_Shepard pulled away, leaving Liara feel empty. Blue eyes searched hers until Shepard blinked, sighing and rubbing the back of her neck the same way she always had, making Liara's heart ache. "How about…you come up to the Normandy? For drinks. For old times' sake." She tried smiling, but it didn't reach her eyes._

_Liara never could refuse Shepard. "That sounds nice," she lied, something she had gotten much better at the few years Shepard was gone. "I'll be up in a few."_

_She felt Shepard's eyes on her as she retreated to get her things, and a wistful, sad smile played on her lips._

_Suddenly, Liara knew why the embrace made her want to weep. It was because as warm as it was, it had the cold finality that marked the beginning of the end._

.

.

.

_"If this were all over tomorrow, what would you want?"_

_Shepard hesitated uncharacteristically. "For nothing to have changed," she said, looking meaningfully at Liara. "I would want…never to have left you." Her voice broke. "Never to have put you through that."_

_Liara's own eyes filled with tears, because oh, how she wanted that too. "Shepard…"_

_"It was selfish," Shepard said, shaking her head angrily as she scrubbed a hand over her face to erase the threatening tears from her eyes. "But all I could think of as everything exploded around me, as I struggled for air, was how much I was going to fucking miss seeing you smile."_

_It was the sight of Shepard's tears that finally broke the dam that held back Liara's. "Goddess," she whispered, as Shepard surged forward and gathered her into her arms once more, holding her so tightly that she almost couldn't breathe. Her tears soaked through Shepard's shirt as her hands clutched at Shepard's shoulder blades. "It can never be the same, can it?" she asked, although she already knew the answer. "No matter how much we love each other. It will always be different."_

_Shepard's face crumpled, and Liara pulled away from her arms, stroking her thumb against the Commander's tear-stained, sculpted cheekbone. Before, Liara had hated herself for always needing someone else for support, always relying on Shepard to save the day. But as Shepard looked at her helplessly, Liara felt like maybe she could be the hero this time, be the stronger one, and say the things no one else wanted to admit. "It's all right, Shepard. It's all right."_

_"A part of me will never stop loving you," Shepard said fiercely, as if her vehemence could turn back the clock. "It never could."_

_"I know," Liara said tearfully. She pressed her lips to Shepard's, savoring the salt of their combined tears that tasted of goodbyes, and whispered, "I wouldn't even know how to."_

_._

_._

_._

"What?" Miranda snapped as Liara's eyes remained on hers for far too long.

"You love her," the asari said simply.

It was like a punch to the gut, and Miranda floundered for words. "What?"

"You have the same look in your eyes that I had when I first realized I loved her too," Liara said.

"I—" Miranda looked uncomfortable.

"If you'll excuse me, Operative. I should unpack my things now."

Miranda knew when she was dismissed, and she nodded tersely. "Of course. The squad meeting will be in the conference room in a few hours. I'll have the AI, EDI, alert you."

"Thank you," Liara said absently, and Miranda left without another word, leaving Liara alone in a room full of painful memories and echoes of lost time.

.

.

_._

Shepard kept her mind carefully blank when Harbinger's voice broke through her mind.

_**Now, Shepard, isn't it so much easier when you leave it to me?**_

"Yes," her own voice spoke in answer as she observed the control panel in front of her, watching the Collectors direct the ship at her behest. "Prepare to board the Normandy," she commanded.

_**Kill as many as you need to, but take as much as possible. We shall need them.**_

Shepard nodded. "Of course."

His presence dissipated once more, and Shepard checked the chamber of her assault rifle with a smile.

.

.

.

"This is fucking stupid."

Miranda slammed a hand down onto the table impatiently. "Do you have any other bright ideas to suggest then, Jack?"

Jack sneered. "Why, cheerleader? Gonna try and choke them out of me?"

"That's enough," Jacob growled.

"Miranda's right. Aside from the upgrades to the Normandy, which may not be enough, the only other thing we have on our side is the element of surprise," Garrus said.

"By ambushing the entire Collector base? We don't even know if that's where Shepard is," Tali argued.

"Again, we don't even know if she's alive," Grunt replied. "Smartest thing to do with a prisoner is to kill it."

Miranda pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. "If we at least infiltrate the base, we can have EDI scan for Shepard's biorhythms and thermal signature. If she…or her body… is not there, then we can assume she is elsewhere, and blow up the base nonetheless, which is the goal of our entire operation."

"I've collected some information on the Collectors' weaponry. At the base, we may be able to emit an electromagnetic pulse to shut down their primary weapons, as well as their individual handguns, if my calculations prove to be correct," Liara added. "Dr. Solus and I have agreed that the particle beam energy they use, as superior in force as it is, could be susceptible to disruption."

"Good work," Miranda said. "Kasumi, Thane, if we manage to make it through the relay and to the base, you two may have to infiltrate while two separate fire teams draw attention from you." Both the thief and assassin nodded their assent silently. "Now, as for team assignments…"

.

.

.

"I'm telling you, EDI, it's just white noise. Radiation bleed or something. You scrubbed the IFF like I told you, didn't you?"

"Yes, Jeff, but my readings indicate that we're transferring information about our location nonetheless," EDI insisted.

Joker sat straight up, instantly on the alert. "What? To whom?"

A large ship suddenly manifested itself near the Normandy, the force of its arrival pounding the mass effect fields around the ship and rocking it a little. Struggling in his seat, Joker looked at the monitors and recognized the familiar shape.

"Oh shit."

.

.

.

"We need to split up into two teams –" Miranda stumbled as the ship shook as if going through extreme turbulence, alarm sirens instantly beginning their warning wails. "EDI, what the hell was that?"

Instead, it was Joker who answered her through the intercom. "Miranda! The Collectors have our location and they've already latched onto the cargo hold. They're boarding!"

"Goddamn it. Everyone, prepare for retaliatory combat," Miranda commanded, already checking the thermal clips on her submachine gun. "Protect the goddamn ship," she barked at the squad in the room, before calling out to the ship's AI. "EDI, alert every crew member on this ship that we've got a hostile enemy attempting to board. Code Orange! Everyone, let's move!" She shouted, rushing them out of the conference room into the armory where they all gathered their respective guns.

"Acting Commander, the Collectors are now onboard," EDI warned.

"Fuck," Jack swore, hefting her shotgun into her hands.

"Kill as many of them as you can," Miranda stated as the squad and the Cerberus crewmembers, armed as well, surrounded the entrances. "We can't afford to lose this ship."

"Acting Commander, there is something else you should know," EDI added.

"What?" she snapped.

"My readings show that two of the life-forms boarding are not Collectors."

"What the hell does it matter?" Jacob barked as pounding footsteps grew closer to the entrances of the CIC.

"If my biorhythm readings are correct…one is geth and one is human."

Miranda paled instantly, the flush of adrenaline disappearing from her cheeks. "My god, is it…?"

"Yes. According to my readings…the human is Commander Shepard."


	7. Chapter 7

**7.**

_"Aren't you the least bit uncomfortable doing this?"_

_"I dunno. I think it'd be kinda fun, actually," Shepard said, shrugging. "Besides, Samara needs my help."_

_Miranda raised a dubious eyebrow. "Seducing an Ardat-Yakshi…fun. Shepard, what you consider fun is what most people would consider kind of stupid."_

_"I've noticed that pattern in my life," came the glib reply. "How do I look?" Shepard asked, striking a pose with her hands on her hips._

_"You're wearing your regular casual clothes," observed Miranda. "Not going to even impress her with a better outfit?"_

_Shepard smirked, her chuckle low and throaty. "Oh, Miranda," she said loftily. "I know hundreds of ways to impress a woman." She strutted towards the elevator, sauntering in and tossing Miranda a smoldering look before the doors closed. "And half of them don't even involve clothing at all."_

_Gleefully, she waggled her fingers in goodbye as the elevators whizzed shut, delighting in the twinge of pink she spotted on Miranda's cheeks._

_._

_._

_._

_**You owe your race nothing, Shepard. I know everything. I know how your parents abandoned you, how everyone else did on your pathetic blue planet, how you had to fend for yourself, all alone. Isn't that right?**_

"Yes," Shepard agreed softly, thinking of her rough childhood on Earth spent running with gangs and living off the streets. "But that changed," she protested, albeit weakly.

_**Did it? You joined the ranks, but how many superior officers tried to bed you on the way to the top? How many soldiers thought you were just another pretty face?**_

A flash, like a snapshot, went through Shepard's mind. A younger version of her, struggling with an older soldier, shoving him off of her in a dark corridor of the Academy.

_"Fuck you!" the younger Shepard spat at the nameless, random soldier as he continued his pursuit._

_"Come on, Private, don't you want it?" He grabbed at his crotch, laughing. "See another Private's privates?"_

_She kicked him there, and he doubled over, crying out. "I said, fuck you," she snarled, before snapping a knee to his nose and making sure it broke._

_"Dyke," he hissed as she walked away, forcing herself not to cringe._

"Too many," Shepard growled at the memory, clenching a fist absently.

_**And the ambassador? And your so-called friends? No one ever wants to believe you, Shepard. No one ever trusts you. No one ever wants to until it's too late, and you're needed to save the day. And then you're discarded as soon as you've served your purpose. Isn't that right?**_

Udina's scornful face. Williams' disgust. The Council's rejection. Shepard felt like she was burning up, her insides intent on raging war within her until they exploded and she was left hollowed out and empty.

"Yes," she grated out between gritted teeth, sweating. "Yes. They used me."

_**Yes. They all used you.**_

Harbinger brought forth an image of Miranda, ice in her eyes and an impatient hand on her hip.

_Miranda eyed her warily. "I'm not looking for new friends, Commander."_

_Shepard was a little taken aback, but refused to let her voice show it. She spoke levelly, calmly: "This doesn't have to be difficult. We're on the same side here."_

_A disdainful, doubtful look tossed her way, dismissed like she was just another Cerberus grunt not worth the time. "We have our mission. We can either do it or talk about it. I just hope you prove to be as useful as the Illusive Man thinks you are."_

Shepard's fist clenched even tighter, nails piercing crescent shapes on her palms like bloody half-moons.

_**And her. "Useful," was it?**_

_Shepard walked past the armory, overhearing Miranda and Jacob's heated exchange on one of the first nights aboard the new Normandy._

_Their voices were muffled, but Jacob's passionate insistence was loud enough to get past the metal doors. "Give her a chance. Give her a break, at the very least. The woman was dead, for Christ's sakes. Do you always have to be so damned cold-hearted?"_

_A derisive snort answered his question. "Oh, Jacob." The voice was intentionally condescending. "This mission….my mission…will be accomplished, either because of this crew or in spite of it. It doesn't matter to me. But I didn't waste two years and billions of Cerberus' creds to spoon-feed an idealist with a superhero complex."_

Her jaw clenched, and a little voice niggled in the back of her mind, but it was practically silent compared to the rumbling, ominous dark voice that overshadowed all else.

_**She doesn't trust you either, does she? She's just using you like the rest of them, she'll probably even admit to it if you even asked her. No one brought you back from the dead, because they wanted you or because they missed you, did they?**_

Memories of a painful resurrection to chaos and gunfire exploded into Shepard's mind, Miranda's urgent voice screeching at her. Ironic that she was brought back to life, woken specifically at that moment, just to avoid her own death. Then it was a blur of unfamiliar faces and bad news. The first smile she saw was the conniving one on the Illusive Man's face, and it wasn't exactly friendly so much as smug.

Shepard didn't respond.

_**No. Everyone, those of your own kind, just has a use for you. My kind and yours… they are not so different, are they? She – **_again, Miranda's haughty smirk appeared, and Shepard's frown deepened - _**wanted to control your mind herself, with a chip in your brain. Is that not worse than what we do? We at least have given you a choice, Shepard, as we have given all of our followers. The turian, Saren, the asari matriarch, Benezia…all of them. We did not implant chips. We merely…persuaded. Isn't that right?**_

"Yes. You persuaded." She repeated hollowly.

Harbinger's chuckle rang out. _**Have we not always given you the truth, Shepard? The truth about your species' fate. The truth about your resistance's futility. We have always been honest, and never lied about our use of you. We've never lied, and any truths we've told, as painful as they may be to you, were only to spare you the trouble of trying to stop the inevitable.**_

Shepard nodded haltingly, as if it hurt.

_**Then, if it is all over for you and your species, why not take revenge when it's due? Take them all down with you because they do not deserve any better. Isn't that right, Shepard? Isn't that right?**_

Blue eyes turned into steel, glinting in the harsh glow of the artificial lights aboard the Collector ship as she picked up her Revenant in determination, gripping it with sweaty palms.

Her voice was as cold as the ice in her veins and the clammy sweat on the back of her neck.

"Yes. That's right."

.

.

.

_Miranda fell back onto the pillows, her hair mussed and damp with sweat, one hand still clutching at the dark head that lingered between her legs._

_"Wait, wait…" Panting, she gasped out, "My god, but you're good at that."_

_Shepard pressed kisses to her inner thighs, and then dragged her mouth upwards, as if mapping Miranda's body with her tongue. Biting teasingly at the flesh of her hip before resting her chin there, Shepard smirked. "You did say you settled for nothing but the best."_

_A blue eye winked at her as Shepard hoisted herself above Miranda, resting her weight on her elbows as she peered down at the other woman. Miranda chuckled. "Yes, I did say that. But I've never felt like that with anyone before. That was…" She paused, searching for the word. "Phenomenal."_

_"Hmm…" Shepard hummed in satisfaction, smiling. "Years of experience, darling."_

_Miranda swatted at her bare backside, the resounding slap echoing in time with Shepard's yelp. "Harlot."_

_Shepard's pout turned into a wicked grin. "You're cruel, Miss Lawson," she whispered, trailing her hand down beneath the sheet once more. "I like it."_

_"Is that so?" Miranda teased, hips already surging upwards in anticipation._

_"Yes, even though your insults are from the Victorian era," Shepard said dryly. "I mean, 'harlot.' Really?" A firm grip grasped Shepard's descending wrist, forbidding it to reach its desired destination. "Ow," she frowned._

_"Well, if my insults aren't good enough for you, why would the rest of me be?" Miranda sniffed haughtily, feigning offense._

_Shepard peppered kisses along her jawline in apparent apology, until she pulled away abruptly and said cheekily, "Good thinking. It probably isn't."_

_Squawking in outrage as Shepard laughed at her, Miranda wrestled with Shepard's flailing arms until a few breathless moments later, she managed to wind up on top, straddling the other woman's hips with her own. Pinning Shepard's arms to the bed, Miranda feigned an intimidating look. "You take that back," she threatened, lips hovering just above Shepard's with the promise of a rewarding kiss, should the Commander provide the right answer._

_"Or else what?"_

_Miranda looked coy. "Or else I'm sure I could find someone else that thinks I'm worth it." She'd expected Shepard to retaliate with a scowl or pout at the threat, but instead, Shepard burst out laughing. Miranda frowned, a little miffed. "What's so funny, Commander? Is that so hard to believe?"_

_Shepard's eyes twinkled, her smile impossibly fond. "Yes," she said, hardly contrite and far too confident. "I hate to inform you, but now that I've finally got you I'm just never letting you go. Sorry about that," she teased._

_"Oh," Miranda said, cheeks burning a little. "Well…" she drawled, ducking her head and finally swooping down for a kiss._

_"Well what?" Shepard asked, licking her lips after Miranda pulled away with a little smirk._

_A devastatingly sexy grin, and then,_

"_I can't say I'm sorry about that at all."_

.

.

.

"Is she alive? What's her status?" Miranda asked shakily over the din of echoing, approaching footsteps.

"The Commander's life signs are stable. The geth is active as well. Acting Commander," EDI paused, sounding as concerned as an AI could. "They are both still in the cargo hold, but the Collector waves themselves have dispersed. The Commander and the geth are not moving at all, just staying in the cargo. "

Hesitating but for a second, she glanced at Jacob before seeing him nod grimly.

"We'll try and hold the line," he said.

"Any of you, squad or crew, that has biotic powers… Be prepared to use them, create shields if you can. We don't know if they've got any damned seeker swarms with them," Miranda said hurriedly. "Joker, can't you do something? Get us away from that damn ship!"

"The virus on the IFF is preventing Jeff from controlling the Normandy. Acting Commander, if you give me the ship, I can help you."

"What? No," Miranda's instinctual answer burst from her lips as pounding on the metal doors grew louder, Collector chirps coming closer. Sweat beaded on her forehead. "I…we need to get to the Commander first," she said. "Get me a way to the cargo hold without dealing with the Collectors directly."

"There is a maintenance shaft through the medical bay. Acting Commander, if you give me the ship I can bypass the IFF virus and open the airlocks," EDI reasoned calmly. "I can seal off this level and evacuate the rest."

"And what of the rest of the crew?"

"Many of them have already been taken aboard the Collector ship."

"Damn it," Miranda growled before heaving a quick but heavy sigh. She hoisted her submachine gun up, already sprinting towards the medical bay and the maintenance shaft. "Suppressing fire!" she shouted back towards the remaining crew that kept wary eyes on the doorways, bending under the force of the Collectors' blows.

"Giving control to a damned AI…." She grumbled as she stuffed herself into the maintenance shaft, scraping an elbow. "EDI, we're going to just fight them off. We can do this, we can…I'll get the Commander and we'll kill them all."

"There is a 2.943% chance of survival should you attempt that."

"God damn it," the Cerberus operative snarled, sliding down the air vent further into the darkness. "Fine! I'm getting Shepard and we'll report back to this level. Be prepared to release the airlocks once we do," she warned, her voice echoing through the dark shaft in the Normandy's underbelly.

Miranda scrambled in the pitch black of the vent, as she heard the doors in the distance finally give in with a few more heavy thuds and rounds of gunfire. Among the screams, she heard a frantic Kelly Chambers shout warningly, desperately:

"They're here!"

.

.

.

_Miranda traced delicate fingertips over the smooth skin of Shepard's lightly muscled back, which twitched a little in response, eliciting a chuckle._

_"I can hear you thinking all the way over here," came Shepard's muffled voice, her face buried in a pillow._

_"One of us has to," Miranda said easily, the pressure of her fingertips increasing until her touch was no longer tickling, but rather, soothing. A snort was Shepard's charming response. "All of this…was easier than I expected."_

_"Again with the slut jokes?" A finger poked her in the stomach until laughingly, Miranda grabbed it and kissed the offending digit._

_"You know what I mean, ass."_

_Shepard shifted so that only half of her face was buried in the pillow, and a twinkling blue eye peeked out. "I know."_

_"It's only been a few days…but I…"_

_Miranda paused, looking hesitant, until Shepard fully rolled over on her side to face Miranda, their faces a scant distance apart. "It's been a long time coming, I think," Shepard said in a hushed voice, quiet although she didn't need to be. "For me at least."_

_"Is that so?" Miranda said, her voice equally soft._

_A smile bloomed on Shepard's lips until she charmingly, inexplicably, rubbed her nose against Miranda's. "Mm-hmm. Of course at first I thought you were attractive. After all, it's not often you're woken up back from the dead by the genetically-engineered perfect woman." Miranda simply rolled her eyes. "But then you were ragingly bitchy self," Shepard continued, despite the pinch she had to dodge. "Hey, watch it! Jesus. Anyway. And then…"_

_"Then…?"_

_It may have been a trick of the light, but it looked like Shepard's cheeks reddened a little as she cleared her throat. "I've seen a lot of things, met a lot of people all over the galaxies," Shepard said, a seeming departure from her earlier point. Her expression changed, and sobered. "And you're gorgeous, no doubt about that." She lifted a hand to brush a dark strand of hair that had fallen into Miranda's eyes. "But I saw the way you looked at Oriana, before you decided to talk to her. All fragile and strong at the same time, but just…loving. Truly happy. And then I just felt it, you know?"_

_"Felt what?" Miranda whispered, holding her breath for reasons unknown._

_"Like…like I was looking at the most beautiful damned woman I would ever see in my entire…" Her brow furrowed momentarily until a toothy smile came to her lips. "Well, both of my entire lifetimes."_

.

.

.

"How's the crew holding up, EDI?" Miranda asked into her comm link as she continued to crawl through the bowels of the Normandy.

"Better with the squad members there, but there are still too many Collectors and not enough cover," EDI replied.

"And Shepard?"

"Still in the cargo bay with the geth, Acting Commander. Life signs are normal, but she still hasn't left although she is capable of moving."

Why hadn't Shepard escaped already? Was she horribly injured? Was the geth holding her hostage?

"All the Collectors have evacuated the hold, right?"

"Yes, Acting Commander. They have all dispersed throughout the Normandy, although their point of entry and exit still remains in the cargo bay with Shepard."

Grunting, Miranda slid down the last of the ladders, muttering all the while to stave off the growing sense of panic and confusion that welled up within her. "Damn it. What the hell is she doing…?"

.

.

.

_Miranda stared out listlessly at the endless darkness of space and stars, unable to look the other woman in the eye as she unloaded her heaviest burdens. "All of your accomplishments can be attributed to your skills. The only things I can take credit for are my mistakes."_

_There was a dreadful silence as Miranda wondered briefly if her tenuously formed friendship had just been destroyed in the face of her embarrassing, pathetic woes. Then there was a snort, and Miranda nearly jumped out of her skin._

_"You fucking kidding me?" Shepard asked, her casual tone assuring a lack of malice._

_"What?"_

_"You've got all of these genetic gifts, and that's fantastic and all, but that doesn't mean shit," explained the Commander, a hand resting on her hip. Miranda could only stare, a little stunned, as Shepard continued. "What matters is how you use them. And from what I've seen, you've used them pretty damn admirably."_

_"…Perhaps," Miranda said, still a little doubtful._

_Impassioned with her argument, Shepard stepped forward with an earnest look in her eyes. "Listen. I know you know everything about me. I know you've seen all of my records, all of my history." Fierce blue eyes stared Miranda directly in the eye, unwavering._

_"Yes," she admitted._

_Shepard held her gaze. "Then you know my mother died when I was young, and my father loved drinking so much that he let it kill him a few years later after he got tired of beating me. Miranda, if my family genes were all that mattered, then I'd be nothing more than just another violent, abusive alcoholic."_

_"Shepard…"_

_"I'm not trying to throw myself a pity party here. I've come to terms with all of that." Shepard heaved a small sigh. "But we're more than what we are, Miranda. **You're** more than that." Her lips quirked in a small half-smile to take the sting out of her words as she continued. "One day I hope I can make you see that."_

_Miranda remained speechless despite the overwhelming, unbearable urge to agree._

.

.

.

_**Now is the time for action, Shepard.**_

"I'm _looking,_" she insisted, pacing around the cargo. The geth watched her silently, but made no move to wander about as she had.

_**The others have not returned yet with the last of the harvest. Be prepared for when they do.**_

Gunfire, shouts, and heavy thuds echoed from the other floors, muted against the walls of the cargo bay.

Shepard narrowed ice blue eyes in frustration, still pacing.

_**Your crew's efforts are as commendable as they are futile.**_

The dying roar of a Praetoria practically silenced all other noise, and Harbinger notably paused.

…_**Our exit may have to be made in haste.**_

"No kidding," she retorted, until muffled thumping, growing increasingly louder and closer, burst forth from one of the maintenance shafts, a feminine grunt pricking Shepard's ears. Finally, the maintenance door kicked open, knocked off its hinges, and familiar booted feet came into view as a body squirmed out of the small tunnel.

"What the hell?" Shepard muttered softly to herself.

.

.

.

_"What the hell?" Jacob Taylor roared, sweat dripping down his face._

_Shepard panted, barely able to regain her breath, but grinning nonetheless. "It's okay, Jacob, it happens to the best of us," she mock-pouted, biting back laughter. "We can try again in thirty minutes, if you like."_

_"Like hell," he grumbled, but she could tell it was all in good nature. Her arms strained as she hoisted herself up from the floor, the muscles bunching with a familiar acidic burn in which she reveled._

_"Oh, don't be such a sore loser, Jacob," Miranda teased, leaning against one of the armory tables in amusement._

_"I do two hundred push-ups a day," he argued. "Two. Hundred. How the hell did she beat me?" He rubbed absently at one bulging bicep._

_Shepard tsk-tsked admonishingly. "Don't you know yet never to pit against me in any sort of contest, no matter how good you think you are?" She preened a little, and Miranda held back a laugh as Jacob continued to glower._

_"Here," he grumbled, forking over a handful of credits to Miranda without preamble._

_Shepard laughed outright. "You made a bet?" she asked incredulously as Miranda counted the money with a small smirk on her lips._

_Jacob folded his arms in front of him defensively. "About who would win," he muttered._

_Snorting, Shepard stretched her overworked limbs. "You've got a lot to learn, Jacob. Take it from Miranda," she winked at the dark-haired woman conspiratorially, "Now that's a woman that knows a sure thing when she sees one."_

_Letting go of her typical reserve in the face of Shepard's infectious mood, Miranda finally chuckled a little, ignoring Jacob as he walked off to sulk and deliberately catching Shepard's eye with her own, smirking._

_"Don't worry, Commander. My bet's on you every time."_

.

.

.

There was a ragged, broken sigh of relief she simply couldn't hold back at the sight of her, as all rational thought of protocol and caution disappeared from her mind in a flash.

"Shepard, thank God you're all right, I…" She frowned, the strange tingle in the back of her neck growing more powerful. "Shepard? What are you doing? It's _me_."

"Oh, I know that," came the lofty response. "I was wondering what was taking you so long, Miranda."

Shepard smiled, still aiming the Revenant at the spot between Miranda's widened blue eyes.


	8. Chapter 8

**8.**

Thane ducked behind makeshift cover, shouting at Jacob. "I don't know how much longer we can keep them at bay," he rumbled.

Jacob grunted, peeking out over the overturned table he used as shelter to biotically pull a Collector closer, only to slam the butt of his gun into its face, causing a sickening crunch. "I know," he growled. "I'm almost out of thermal clips."

"Son of a bitch," Jack panted, exhausted after sending shockwave after shockwave at the endless hordes of Collectors. "Fuck this," she shouted. "We don't have time to waste. I knew the cheerleader wasn't going to pull through."

"No!" Jacob protested. "Miranda can do this. We just need to give her a little bit more time…"

An explosion nearby sent the few remaining crewmembers flying, spatters of blood coating the wall and the walls of the Normandy trembling in response.

"Listen, ass plug, we don't fucking _have_ the time to give!" Jack roared.

"I've got to figure out what's going on. Maybe Shepard and Miranda need back up," Liara shouted over the din of explosions and other screams. "Cover me, Jacob!" she screamed, and without another word, ran off into the smoke.

"Liara, wait!" He yelled to her rapidly disappearing form, but it was already too late. "Damn it. All units, suppressing fire!"

**.**

**.**

**.**

On instinct, Miranda's hand twitched, intent on darting towards her holstered pistol, but Shepard's cruel eyes watched her like a hawk.

"I don't think so, darling," the Commander said, tsk-tsking. "So eager to shoot me?" Shepard asked, still aiming her own gun. "And here I thought you cared about little old me," she pouted.

"What are you doing?" Miranda asked once more, although tendrils of cold fear already gripped at her heart, her gut instantly knowing something was terribly, terribly wrong. She had asked, yes, but she knew somehow that she really didn't want to know the answer.

The smirk on Shepard's face held none of its characteristic mirth. "Well, right now I'm pointing my gun at you, and then afterwards I'm going to be planting this little bomb somewhere around here," Shepard responded easily, flashing a little device with her other hand. "I was figuring out where exactly I wanted to leave my little present before you so rudely interrupted."

Miranda felt her legs quiver and her hands tremble. Her voice was just as shaky, although she was desperately trying to hide it. "Why are you doing this?" she demanded, her question coming out more like a plea.

Shepard's laugh sent chills down her spine. Gunfire and terrified screams, still muffled, broke through the walls and echoed throughout the cargo bay, and Miranda could only look on in horror as the Commander seemed to revel in the sound.

"Does it matter why something happens? Isn't it more important to figure out exactly _what _is happening first?" Her eyes narrowed coolly. "It's unlike you to ask the irrelevant, darling. Have you been losing your touch while I've been gone?" Shepard asked condescendingly, lowering her gun a little in feigned surprise. "A pity, really," she continued. "Because I've been learning _so much _in the meantime from our friendly neighborhood Reaper."

Miranda could only stare.

.

.

.

Liara scrambled down the same tunnel Miranda had, gun pressing tightly against her hip as fear and panic flowed through her veins. She felt ill thinking of what could have possibly gone wrong, what could be taking Miranda so long, and hurried further down the pathway.

"I'm coming, Shepard," she whispered, more as a reassurance to herself than anything.

.

.

.

An icicle of abject terror stabbed through Miranda's chest, and she suddenly felt quite dizzy in the wake of her realization.

"They've…you're indoctrinated," she whispered, almost to herself, in an attempt to process the unfathomable. Perhaps if she said it aloud, Shepard's smile would stop being so cold and become that genuine one she secretly adored, and the Commander would simply laugh and say it was all some horrible, horrible joke.

But saying it aloud only made it more real, the weight of the realization bearing down heavily on her heart and on her shoulders, especially in the face of Shepard's derisive snort.

Miranda stared unblinkingly at the woman in front of her, damning her father distantly in the back of her mind, because for all of her genius intelligence, she simply couldn't just process all that transpired in those few precious moments.

Familiar crystalline eyes stared coldly back at her, but there was something so utterly alien in them that Miranda could no longer deny the evidence that stood right in front of her, living and breathing and threatening to doom the entire human race.

Shepard was gone, and in her place was this poor facsimile for her, with just as much capability but none of her good intentions. Miranda had lost some amount of faith when Shepard was abducted, but the small flicker of hope she had maintained for humanity was effectively snuffed out. Miranda had prepared herself as much as she could for the possibility of Shepard's death, had theorized that maybe they could pull this off without her, if need be.

But _against _her?

Miranda felt like throwing up.

Shepard scoffed. "Whatever you want to call it, Miranda. I was lost and now am found," she mocked. The Commander's eyes glazed over for a millisecond, and she tilted her head as if listening to something only she could hear. "Ah, yes," she grinned, as if answering someone that Miranda could not see. "I fear you've been wasting my time." For a moment, her face softened, as did her voice. "You know, it doesn't have to be this way. You could come with me," Shepard reasoned, taking a step closer to Miranda. "We'll leave the Normandy together, figure something out. Fuck everything and everyone else."

"Or you could just not do this," Miranda urged. "Shepard, I know you can fight this. You're stronger than this."

The Commander froze, and her expression hardened once more, devoid of any real emotion. She snorted. "Is this the part where love's supposed to conquer all or something?" Miranda's silence only spurred her on. "I don't think you do love me, or even could. I wouldn't be surprised anyway. You've always been a cold-hearted little bitch," she snarled.

"I never lied about how much I…care for you," Miranda rasped, hand still twitching for her gun.

Shepard shook her head, scoffing as if she didn't hear her. "If that were true, where were you when the Collectors took turns beating the shit out of me? When Harbinger would only stop cutting me, burning me, hitting me, so I would have just enough time to heal, just so he could do it all over again?"

Miranda paled, skin going clammy and stomach churning. "I…"

"You what? You did _nothing_," she roared. "I sat there and I _waited _for you. I wondered if the cavalry was going to come, if somehow it was all going to work out. That the good guys were going to win in the end." Shepard's voice went soft, delving into a harsh whisper. "But no. I should've realized." Her lip curled in anger. "I should've realized that as soon as I was gone, you probably just tried to find some other poor soul to play hero."

"That's not true," insisted Miranda, taking a hesitant towards Shepard with her hand outstretched cautiously. "Shepard. Harbinger has messed with your mind, warped your thinking," she said reasonably. "None of that is true, we were trying to figure out how to rescue you, and -"

"Stop." The Commander simply shook her head, eyes narrowed in disgust. "You've been using me from the start. And I've had just about enough of it."

"_Darby_, _no."_

With one smooth motion, she hefted her Revenant back to firing level, and squared her aim onto Miranda. "Time for you to go, _darling._"

.

.

.

She was almost there. The light stemming from the cargo bay into the open entrance to the maintenance shaft broke through, acting as a dim beacon for Liara to head towards. She heard the thudding of someone's footsteps pacing back and forth, and suddenly, muffled, stressed and angry voices. Miranda's and…

_Shepard_'_s._

The exit grew closer and closer.

Liara had never moved faster in her life.

.

.

.

In an instant, Miranda's hand reached out towards her pistol, grabbing and aiming at the Commander. Years of experience and a bone-deep instinct for survival made her finger land squarely on the trigger, and in that same split second, she wondered briefly how many times she would be betrayed by those she trusted, and how many times the debt would be repaid with someone's life by her hand.

The moment flashed before her so briefly, she barely had time to wonder if any of it actually happened. All of it already seemed so much like a horrible, haunting dream…

A shot rang out, and the thud of a body hitting the floor drowned out the explosions and screams from above.

.

.

.

A Collector roared and hunched over as one of the bullets from the fray landed squarely in its gut. As it felt the life draining from its body, a sudden resurgence of energy coursed through its veins, searing like fire.

Its body fragmented and glowed, and in its place, a newer, stronger body stood ready for action.

"It appears our plans have changed. Shepard is otherwise…detained," the Harbinger-Collector rumbled angrily. "Return to the ship, but do not use the cargo entrance," he commanded. "The humans we have already gathered shall have to suffice."

.

.

.

"_NO!_" The roar was ripped from Liara's throat, as she tumbled out of the maintenance shaft and scrambled over to Shepard's collapsed form. As she knelt over the Commander's body, the asari turned towards Miranda. "How _could _you?" She hissed, enraged. "You _shot her? _We could've done something, we could've…" She shook her head. "By the goddess, there had to be another way…"

"No…" Miranda could only stare in shock, pale skin so white it almost looked transparent. "I…I didn't even _shoot_, how could I—"

She stared mutely in surprise at her gun, and all she could hear was the blood rushing through her ears.

That is, until a series of especially forceful explosions from upstairs went off, rocking the Normandy and sending them all reeling.

.

.

.

"Activate the FTL drive, _now,_" Harbinger roared, punching one of the Collector ship's panels.

As the warp drive launched the Collector ship out of the Normandy's proximity and towards the Omega-4 Relay, Harbinger glared sourly out at the stars that whizzed past, until he tilted his head as a realization came to him. If he could smile, he would have.

"We will find another way," he said, already gloating.

.

.

.

When the smoke finally cleared, Jacob slowly, painfully lifted his head from the ground, his body straining. "Status report," he ground out. "Is everyone all right?"

"Define 'all right,'" Jack groaned, pressing a hand to a cut on her forehead.

"There are no Collector life-forms present on the Normandy, Operative. Either they are dead or have evacuated," EDI said. "There are also no signs of any Collector vessels nearby."

"Thanks, EDI. Joker? You okay?" asked Jacob, propping himself up on an elbow to look over at the pilot, lying a few feet away.

"Uh, yeah," he groaned in response. "I think I broke a rib." He sat up with a little help from an equally grimacing Kasumi. "Or all of them," he moaned pathetically.

Jacob turned accusing eyes towards Kasumi. "They were retreating," he said. "Were those last five grenades really necessary? And did you have to throw them _all at the same time_?"

The thief shrugged, a tired smile on her face. "Got rid of the stragglers, didn't it?"

.

.

.

"Liara, _I didn't shoot_, I can't have—"

The geth took a step towards the Commander and Liara, who still hovered around Shepard's prone form protectively.

"Stay away from me or so help me…" Liara threatened, her hands glowing blue with biotic energy.

"We will consent to your demands." The machine stopped in its tracks, its head tilting almost in a human-like, curious manner. "However, Shepard-Commander is not dead."

"It…can talk?" Miranda asked in shock.

"What do you mean she's not dead?" Liara demanded, never taking her eyes off the geth.

"We shot Shepard-Commander. A single concussive shot to the spinal column renders a human instantly unconscious and slows heart rate to nearly imperceptible level, specifically if targeted between the cervical vertebrae. We used just enough force to penetrate the spinal meninges and—"

"Enough!" Miranda barked, aiming her pistol at the geth. "_You _shot her? Are you working for the Collectors or the Reapers?"

"No. We are not heretics. We wish to stop them."

"What?" asked the Cerberus agent. "What are you talking about?"

"Are you going to attack us?" Liara asked cautiously.

"No," the geth responded. "We do not wish to harm you. We seek to aid Shepard-Commander in order to stop the heretics."

"Then why did you shoot her?" Miranda demanded, her gun still trained on the machine.

Despite not having any facial features or any sort of emotion, the geth managed to look just a little bit incredulous as it simply stared back at Miranda, as if the answer were obvious.

"Because Shepard-Commander told us to."


	9. Chapter 9

**9.**

_"The geth is fully activated?"_

_A nod from a nearby Collector was her response._

_"Good. Show me."_

.

.

.

_"Leave us," Shepard commanded the Collectors, waiting until they left and slammed the doors shut behind them before turning towards the activated geth._

_She looked pale, cold sweat beading on her forehead. Noticeably grimacing, Shepard clutched at her head before shakily regaining her breath._

_"Can you understand me?" she asked slowly._

_"Yes."_

_"Are you going to attack me?"_

_"No."_

_She looked suspiciously at it, blue eyes narrowing. "Listen," she said roughly. "I don't have much time. You called me Shepard-Commander before. How do you know who I am, and why aren't you trying to blow my head off?"_

_"We have not met you."_

_"No, but I've met other geth before. Well," she frowned, "If by met, you mean killed because they were trying to kill me."_

_"We are all geth. And we have not met you. You have met heretics, ones that follow the Old Machines, but not true geth."_

_Shepard sighed, another painful stab lancing through her brain as she visibly struggled. "Old Machines. You mean Reapers?"_

_"Yes. Geth build their own future, but the heretics looked to the Old Machines for theirs. They are no longer a part of us."_

_Tendrils of anger and hatred swirled around her mind, dark whispers creeping at its edges and luring her back to where she **really** did not want to be. "Listen to me," she said fiercely. "I don't know if I can trust you right now, but I can't afford not to…Now, are you saying you're **not** aligned with the Reapers?"_

_"We oppose the heretics. We oppose the Old Machines. Shepard-Commander opposes them both. Cooperation would be mutually beneficial."_

_Everything was growing foggier by the second, vestiges of her true self becoming lost once more. She desperately fought against it, feeling her mind drown in the darkness as she sought for a brief respite, her energy draining from her with the effort. "I agree…" Shepard rasped. "You know we're on a Collector ship right now. We're going to attack my ship soon, and I can't do anything about it right now. I don't want to, do you understand?"_

_"No."_

_Shepard slammed a fist into the nearby wall, growling. "No," she ground out, mostly to herself and the echoes of indistinguishable, ominous whispers seducing her from the corners of her mind. "Not just yet."_

_"Shepard-Commander. We detect abnormal brainwaves via electrochemical patterns, in addition to erratic heart rate and laborious breathing. We believe there may be signs of organic malfunction."_

_She snorted, her breaths coming out in rapid bursts. "Interesting way to put it," she muttered. "One of the Old Machines has brainwashed me. I can't think this clearly for much longer, and especially not when Harbinger's in my mind directly."_

_"You speak of indoctrination. We have studied the effects of the Old Machines' artifacts and proximity—"_

_"Yes, yes, that's all great," Shepard said, gritting her teeth. "Just…just listen, I can't hold out for much longer, and it's becoming harder and harder to control myself. The real Shepard-Commander does not want to destroy the Normandy or the human race, do you see? I am not working with the Reapers or the Collectors, but when they control me I can't help it. I won't be myself. Don't try to reason with me. Just…stop me. Somehow."_

_"We understand."_

_"Good," she panted, leaning against the wall. The growing pangs of her oncoming migraine thundered against the walls of her cranium, and it was becoming increasingly more difficult to see why she was telling the geth all this…_

_"Shepard-Commander?"_

_"I…I can't…" she clutched at her head once more, this time with both hands, tugging at the roots of her hair to distract herself from the mind-numbing pain in her skull. "When we… get to the Normandy, help my crew if you truly want to help me," she demanded. "Don't let me hurt them. I …can't stop us from attacking the ship, but…We…we cannot let the Old Machines win…okay?"_

_"Yes," the geth intoned. "We understand."_

_"G….good," she whispered, slumping against the wall momentarily, all energy sapped from her as she felt the cage of her mental prison re-shaping, re-forming once more. Too many voices were in her head, their whispers growing louder and louder as the strange image of a beautiful dark-haired woman in a black and white leather jumpsuit faded in and out of her mind, both familiar and not. "Don't let me hurt her…" Shepard said nonsensically to herself, to the growing roar of hisses and whispers._

_Shepard succumbed to the darkness enveloping her, and after an excruciating moment that felt like all of her cells exploding and re-aligning, she stood up, with a burst of energy and vitality that was not her own, stretching her muscles and cracking her neck._

_A determined look came to her steely eyes as a beep on her communication device sounded, signifying their arrival to the galaxy in which the Normandy currently, obliviously, floated through._

_She grinned, more of a predatory baring of teeth than anything._

_"We're here…" she sing-songed to herself._

_The geth followed her mutely out of the room, its face as expressionless as always._

.

.

.

"By the Goddess…" Liara whispered. "Shepard knows. She's still in there somehow," she said, twinges of hope coloring her voice. "She fought against it before, maybe…"

A similar surge of relief flooded Miranda's veins, but worry still niggled the back of her mind. "Yes, but who knows if we can get her back? We need to get her to the medical bay," she replied, pausing as she took in their damaged surroundings. "If there still is one," Miranda added grimly.

The asari shook her head, her expression hardening with determination. "You're right. We…we need to check on the others."

"EDI, status report," Miranda called out, signaling to the geth to help her lift Shepard's unconscious body as she went about disarming the Commander just in case.

"All crewmembers not with Shepard's primary squad on level 2 are either gone or deceased," EDI stated. "The remaining members do not have any sustained significant injuries except for Jeff, who appears to have actually fractured his ribs once more."

"Goddamn it," Miranda muttered. "What is the Normandy's status? Tell me we have some modicum of functionality."

"Negative," EDI replied. "There are also several reports of damage to the Normandy's infrastructure, requiring a significant amount of repair."

"We need to rescue the crew," Liara insisted as they half-dragged Shepard's body towards the elevators.

"EDI, how long will these repairs take?" Miranda asked sharply.

"Typically, with full crew capacity and a regular working schedule allotting for mealtimes and standard Alliance seven hours of rest, two and a half days."

"Christ," growled Miranda, stabbing at an elevator button once they manhandled Shepard's body in, the geth following them silently. "And with what we've actually got?" she questioned. "Excluding all the…expendable things… like sleep."

"A day at best, Acting-Commander."

"We don't have this kind of time," Liara said seriously. "Especially with…" she grunted as she shifted some of Shepard's weight in her arms. "Well, all of this," she added. "I need to speak with Dr. Chakwas and Dr. Solus. Maybe there's…something we can do about Shepard while we undergo repair. I've been doing some research about indoctrination, and with the help from my Shadow Broker resources, maybe-"

The elevator pinged as they came to Level 2, and as their airlocks whizzed open to reveal the worse for wear crew, the Commander began to stir and mumble.

"Miranda," Jacob said in relief, stumbling over the debris. "You made it." He looked at the half-unconscious form draped across Miranda and Liara's shoulders. "Holy shit," he said in shock, reaching out a hand to help carry Shepard. "The Commander."

"Yes," Miranda nodded. "Jacob, we need to have a group meeting immediately."

"Is she all right?" he asked.

Miranda sighed. "Yes, but there have been some compli—"

The jostling from transferring her from the two women's arms to Jacob's roused Shepard from unconsciousness further.

"Wha…?" the Commander grumbled, eyes drowsily opening. All of the team's eyes glued to Shepard's slowly awakening form.

"…Shepard?" Jack asked, her voice uncharacteristically soft in its surprise.

As if hearing her name galvanized her into life, Shepard lurched upwards in Jacob's arms, kicking her legs out to stand as he willingly let her go. She stumbled backwards on her feet, landing heavily against the wall with a thud and leaning against it, panting.

Jacob approached her cautiously, a hand outstretched in an attempt at consolation. "Commander, it's all right. You're on the Normandy, you're safe-"

A fist snapped outwards, hitting Jacob squarely in the face as the Commander snarled, moving like a feral, cornered animal.

"Shit!" Jacob gurgled, clutching at his bloodied nose as he reeled backwards.

"Don't touch me," hissed the Commander, eyes wild as she stared down the crew who seemed to be closing in on her. "I'll kill all of you, don't you fucking-"

Just as her body seemed to coil up like a spring, ready to dart out and attack once more, another hand seemed to lash out from nowhere and clubbed the Commander across the back of her head with the butt of a pistol. The anger in Shepard's blue eyes faded as her pupils rolled up back into her head, and she slumped to the ground, knees falling first until her head met the floor with a painful crash.

Miranda looked simultaneously guilty and resolute as she holstered her pistol. "I can explain," she muttered.

In direct contrast to all the noise and chaos that just occurred with the fight against the Collectors, the room grew deathly silent, enough to hear a hair follicle drop. Several pairs of widened eyes blankly stared at the scene in front of them, until Jack's gruff, angry voice ripped through the silence.

"Is someone going to explain just what the ever-loving _fuck_ is going on?"

.

.

.

He exhaled, halfway between a grunt and a sigh. Blue gray smoke trailed from his nostrils, lingering in front of his face in a shroud.

"While it appears that we have regained the upper hand by having the Commander back on the Normandy, we don't know the residual effects from being possessed by Harbinger. If she's truly indoctrinated, brief unconsciousness won't just make it go away."

"Yes, I know," Miranda answered tersely.

The Illusive Man stared back at her, scrutinizing with those unnerving, inhuman eyes. He blissfully ignored his subordinate's brusque response, continuing. "What do you think, Miranda? You interacted with her during the attack. Is there any chance of perhaps reversing the process?" He questioned, taking another lengthy drag from his cigarette.

The agent frowned, looking hesitant. "I'm…unsure. She's currently still unconscious in the medical bay. The doctors aboard the ship are undergoing…consultation," she said. "You know we've never encountered a case of indoctrination that was reversible before," Miranda reminded. "By will or medical assistance."

"Indeed," the Illusive Man replied absently. "But if anyone would be able to do it, it would be Shepard."

"Agreed." She clasped impatient hands behind her back, looking at his unmoving figure. "Anything else, sir?"

He spun his chair around slowly, turning away from her and facing the giant blue-orange star burning brightly beyond the glass. The star cast an eerie glow across the Illusive Man's face as he drummed his unoccupied fingers against his armrest, clearly in thought. "You know I've put more time and money into this project….into Shepard… than anything else in Cerberus," he said, still puffing away on his cigarette as he contemplated the beautiful scenery in front of him. "She was…and possibly still remains…humanity's last hope against the Reapers."

"Yes, sir."

Crossing his legs easily, he leaned back into his chair. "But if she truly is irreversibly under Harbinger's influence…then she is more an immediate threat to us than anything else."

Miranda's worst fears about the conclusions the Illusive Man would make were starting to come true. She reluctantly had to agree with him because it was utterly true, but that didn't mean she could give up hope just yet. "Yes, but I don't think that-"

"Miranda," the Illusive Man said abruptly, interrupting her by whirling around in his chair, looking at her sharply. "I didn't let you put that control chip in Shepard's head because I didn't want to change anything about her. The Commander had to be exactly as she was before. _That_ was the woman that I believe is the only chance for humanity's salvation." He viciously stabbed the filter of his cigarette into its ashtray, the stub joining several others in an ashen pile. "But if the woman in the medical bay isn't truly Commander Shepard at heart…" the Illusive Man paused, heaving a regretful sigh that seemed almost too theatrical to be real. "Then the Lazarus Project was an overall failure, and we'll need to look for other avenues of salvation for humanity."

Miranda froze, trying to mask her sharp inhalation of surprise. "…Sir?"

"I think you'll know what you have to do," he finished darkly, his tone indicating he expected no further discussion.

There was a lengthy pause as the dark-haired agent merely returned the cold gaze her boss gave her, and then stiffly, Miranda nodded once and cut the transmission feed.

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.

.

_**I can still feel you, Shepard. Are you listening? Do you hear me?**_

…

_**Your little friends think they've got you. How naïve.**_

…

_**You cannot escape your destiny, Shepard. We are your destiny.**_

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.

.

"Go ahead. Try and lay a finger on me. I promise that'll be the last time you'll see it."

She desperately muffled a frustrated sigh. "I don't want to hurt you."

"Pity," Shepard mock-pouted. "I can't say the same." She struggled against the restraints, the muscles of her body straining and tensing as sweat beaded on her skin. Her electric blue eyes, gone cold with hatred and contempt, seemed to bore holes through anyone who had tried to talk to her.

Liara could only look at her sadly, willing herself to look past the ugly creature that was in front of her, the one that was certainly _not_ Shepard at heart. "I know this is not how you truly feel, Shepard. The Collectors…the _Reapers_ have done something to you. You're indoctrinated."

"Oh, _bullshit_," Shepard snarled. "You wanna know how I _feel?_ I _feel_ like my time there only made me realize how fucking useless this all is. Whatever you want to call it, this is real," she spat. "You really think we can stop them?" Her scoff was bitter. "What the fuck do you care anyway? They're not even after the asari."

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Liara could no longer rein in the sigh she'd been holding back. "Because all life is important, Shepard, and the Reapers want to destroy it for no reason."

"Oh, Jesus. Spare me."

"What happened to you?" Liara asked softly, almost to herself. She hadn't expected an answer, not really. Not when all Shepard had been doing ever since she awoke once more was rage against her restraints, spit at the remaining crewmembers, or insult and threaten anyone else that approached her in the med bay. Not when Liara knew indoctrination had no answer, no cure. Dr. Chakwas had had to sedate Shepard just to tend to what wounds she had and to get her to stop screaming and shouting. Hours later, after Shepard had been restrained, Liara took the chance to simply speak with her once more, see if that helped any, or maybe brought the real Shepard back into consciousness and control with the help of reason.

It clearly was proving to be a futile effort.

"Reality, that's what," Shepard growled. "Humans are half as intelligent and advanced as the Protheans were, and look what happened to them. Those that didn't die became the fucking Collectors."

"Then why do this?"

"Why not?" There was a cruel glint to Shepard's eyes, cold and dead as Liara had ever seen them.

"You have spent your entire life trying to preserve humanity, Shepard. That's why not," Liara said calmly, as if she could reason with a brainwashed mind. "I still don't understand. What has changed?"

When Shepard laughed, it sent a chill down Liara's spine. "Don't you see? Nothing has. What's happening to us is what happened to the Protheans, and is what will happen to whatever species the Reapers decide to go after next. This has all happened before, and life still manages to go on despite or because of the Reapers." She squirmed against her restraints, albeit a little less aggressively, as she continued. "They made everything just to destroy it. It's all a fucking useless cycle. Might as well go with the flow, shouldn't I? Hell, help it along, if I can," she said with a cruel smile.

"That isn't true," Liara protested. "They can be stopped. Nothing is impossible."

"You're more naïve than I imagined, _dear._"

"And you sound like my mother, Shepard," Liara countered stiffly, crossing her arms, thinking of the other beloved woman who had turned against her in the face of indoctrination.

"Oh, you mean the one that I killed?" Shepard asked innocently, though the wicked smirk on her face gave her away. A slap rang out through the medical bay, and Shepard grinned, licking at the blood on her lips. "Me-_ow_," Shepard purred, eyeing the fuming asari lasciviously. "Kitten's got claws. Did I touch a nerve there?"

Breathing deeply through her nose, Liara tried to gather whatever remaining composure she had left. "Remember that _I _helped you kill her too, Shepard, because it was what had to be done. If the same happens with you, know that I cannot…_will not_…hesitate to do the same," Liara intoned.

Shepard raised an eyebrow. Loftily, she retorted, "And you wonder why I left you."

Liara silently stormed out of the room.

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.

.

"Mordin, I need to speak with you," Miranda said as she stalked into the tech lab.

The salarian looked up from picking up the miscellaneous items that had fallen from their shelves during the Collector attack. "Ah. Just a moment, please," he said, before grabbing a few more papers and scraps of metal from the floor, standing and dumping them on a nearby table. "Yes?"

Miranda leaned heavily against the table's edge, crossing her arms and staring at her boots. "You know I headed the Lazarus Project, watched over and determined almost all of Shepard's reconstruction."

Mordin nodded. "Yes. Quite impressed. Knowledge of biotechnology must be extensive."

"Yes," Miranda agreed. "I managed," she added dryly. Miranda shook her head, sighing and clearing her thoughts before continuing. "Almost half of her body is organic, and the other is made from cybernetic technology." Miranda's arms tightened against her chest, her limbs squeezing against each other almost painfully as though she were bracing herself against the cold. "More specifically, I'm talking about her heart."

"Ah, yes. Seen the schematics of the prototype. Malleable platinum alloy enforced by titanium-iridium complex. Timed administrative electrical pulses to ensure chamber synchronization. Microcore element zero ablative weave for protective purposes, not to mention enhanced musculature strength-"

"Mordin," Miranda interrupted sharply. "There are nanites embedded in her cardiac muscle to improve her myogenic mechanisms," she informed.

"Hmm. Nanotechnology. Not surprising," he said absently. "Often used in cybernetic repair."

"The point is, I need to know at what voltage these specific nanites are disrupted," she said, handing him the blueprints for the nanite technology in question. "Take a look at these."

He frowned momentarily, his brows furrowing as his eyes flitted across the papers. After a moment of perusing, Mordin looked up. "Cannot disrupt these nanites via electrical pulse. Will completely eradicate them, destroy them."

She sighed, rubbing her forehead to ward off the oncoming headache. "How do I freeze them momentarily then?"

Mordin blinked in confusion. "Simple metalloid plus liquid nitrogen complex. Readily available in almost any lab. Injection method probably best. Why the inquiry?"

"Is it readily available in _this_ lab?" Miranda huffed, waving an arm.

"Yes," the salarian said, hesitating. "But Miranda. Freezing nanites for even a picosecond will effectively terminate all function. Will completely stop Shepard's heart from beating."

Miranda fixated her gaze on the ground.

"I know."


	10. Chapter 10

**10.**

_All of her senses seemed dulled, muted. Like she was in a fog that blocked out every one of them, only letting a few fragmented bits of sensory information erratically jump through her synapses. It didn't help. The only picture she could form was of something terrible._

_There was a muffled roaring in her ears. She vaguely registered screaming, but she didn't know whose voice it was. There were several of them, actually. Screaming voices. Shouting in pain and anguish, fear and terror. She could not make out the words, but it didn't matter._

_The sound of suffering was universal._

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.

.

"You've been very quiet since the Commander…came back."

"So have you," came the neutral reply.

"Touché."

Clearly more discussion was expected. She hesitated. Spending two years using information as she had made her even more reticent and less comfortable disclosing anything. "I…I suppose it's been difficult lately. We are all so affected by this. All of humanity is. And yet none of us know what to do except sit around and think about what we _could_ do." She paused, the mysterious little smile turning wry with a tinge of sadness. "I suppose this is one answer that is not really a solution at all," she finished, raising her glass.

"I wasn't sure if you were going to, but I'm glad you accepted my invitation. I have to admit, I didn't peg you for a drinker."

"I wasn't. Not until I met Commander Shepard, at least."

At that, Kasumi chuckled. "Being with her tends to bring that out in people," she said softly.

Liara just kept absently staring out of the window, wine glass in hand. "She tends to bring a lot of things out of a lot of people."

"True. Sometimes the best," Kasumi said earnestly, and then her smile turned devious. "Sometimes the worst. But no matter what, something changes when she's around."

"Sometimes," replied Liara, her voice distant and eyes full of pain, "everything does."

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"_Daddy, look!"_

_The painting looked like an exact replica of the original, as though Van Gogh thought he'd have another shot at it and re-paint his famed "Starry Night." Miranda Lawson held it tightly but gently in her small hands, her fingertips stained with ink._

_She was three years old._

_"Yes, it's lovely, just lovely, Miranda," Henry Lawson said, barely looking up from his desk. Distracted and frustrated, he didn't even attempt one of his too-stiff smiles at his daughter and instead, bit back the urge to shoo her away. He did, however, have the energy to grumble far too loudly to be considered for his own ears. "It should be, what with how much I'm paying that art tutor…"_

_"…Yes, Daddy," Miranda said, voice quiet. Being around him was like being around a ticking time bomb, and Miranda learned early on that it was best not to make any loud, sudden movements or sounds around him. Or be around him at all, she supposed._

_"Pet?" he grated out, "What did I tell you about calling me "daddy'? Call me "Father", it's much more dignified." He belatedly, half-heartedly tried to soften his voice. "You'll sound like a big girl." Henry returned tired eyes to the financial reports in his hands, frowning, as Miranda shifted on her feet._

_"Y-yes…Father." Thoroughly rebuked, the enthusiasm with which she had entered his office had fizzled out like a dying flame, and she listlessly handed the painting over to her father. "We can hang it up somewhere, right?"_

_The wings of the Lawson mansion were spacious and almost cavernous in their size. Henry's office walls were bare, save for one original Dali and da Vinci, and a few of Henry's company's awards. Room, like money, like food, like timeless art pieces and antiques, like pride and arrogance and just about anything but love, were in abundance in the Lawson family estate._

_"God damn it!" Henry roared, startling Miranda. He crumpled the papers in his hands, muttering to himself. "I fucking knew he got the numbers wrong." He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Jesus." He eyed Miranda, who still stood there nervously. "What did you want again, pet?"_

_Wordlessly, Miranda stepped forward and hesitating only a little, placed the painting on her father's desk amidst all the papers and folders._

_"Ah, yes," Henry said. "Well, I have a lot of work to do, pet, a lot of mistakes to fix as per usual," he groused. "Leave your poor father alone to do some work, will you?"_

_Her smile was tentative, and she nodded before quietly leaving the room even though her father's eyes remained glued to his papers._

_Later that night, Miranda quietly crept into his office and dug her painting out of the trash, willing herself not to cry._

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_There was a blurry haze blinding her eyes. She rubbed at them, but something sticky on her right hand only made it worse. She blinked, but it felt like the milky white film of blurriness was only in her mind and wasn't something physical, wasn't a tangible eyelash or piece of dirt in her eyes._

_She stumbled along, groping the nearby walls for support, as her boots squelched sickeningly with every step. Whatever it was, it was viscous and slightly sticky, adhering to her boots and making them feel heavier than they already felt. Her poor attempts at movement finally proved useless as she fell almost flat on her face. Catching herself and ending up on all fours forced her to come face to face with the literal cause of her downfall._

_A body._

_Or, more accurately, a corpse._

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_"I hate hanging around here, it's…My house is such a dump," Niket grumbled._

_"It's not…bad," Miranda said tactfully._

_He scoffed. "Compared to the famed Lawson mansion? Right." Niket teased, but Miranda felt the oncoming of a well-worn argument. "Why won't you let me visit your house? I just don't understand."_

_"Clearly," Miranda retorted. "Niket, we've been over this."_

_"I know, I know, you're not ashamed of me, blah blah blah. I still don't get it."_

_"People should stay as far away from Henry Lawson as possible," she said, her voice dark. "You're the only friend I have, Niket. I don't want him taking you away from me too."_

_"Miri…"_

_"You really don't understand. I don't even want him to know who you are." She didn't mention the last three 'friends' she had that sold her out to Henry for a hefty sum. In return for no longer "associating" with Miranda, they were given enough money to feed their families for a few years and buy a new car in one fell swoop. It just wouldn't do, associating with…with "those people" as her father liked to call them. Or, as the rest of society would call them, "middle class."_

_Niket took in her troubled expression and immediately regretted bringing up the sore subject once more. "I'm sorry. I won't push this anymore, promise." Niket smiled at her, and it was so pure and honest it made Miranda want to cry. It was a real smile, one that crinkled his eyes and nose and bared his teeth. It wasn't the stiff-lipped small one of politeness she gave towards her father's business associates and their haughty children; not the plastered on, hollow one her father gave her when she accomplished something; not the one Stubbs, her father's assistant, gave her out of nervous deference. A real, honest to God smile._

_"Good. I would hate to have to give my best friend a bloody nose," Miranda joked._

_"Like you even would, Miri," he laughed, grabbing her in one of his sporadic bear hugs._

_(The first time he had done this, Miranda's fight training and sudden terror at being touched – no one ever hugged her, kissed her cheek goodnight, held her hand – kicked in and she kneed him in the balls. Niket had learned to be more discriminatory when choosing the proper moment to hug her, and Miranda learned not to be such a "spaz" – Niket's words, not hers.)_

_Perhaps it wasn't wise to let him be so affectionate with her, she thought in retrospect. Miranda knew Niket had a little crush on her and she purposely emphasized her strictly platonic feelings, but he still stared at her when he thought she wasn't looking, still smiled at her too earnestly. But even still, as he hugged her and squeezed just a little too tightly, she didn't say anything. She couldn't afford to._

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"_Where were you?" Henry demanded._

_Miranda stiffened in the doorway, her scowl etched deep in her skin; after all, she had had sixteen years to perfect it. "Out."_

_"Damn it, Miranda, don't be deliberately obtuse," her father snarled, crossing his arms tightly against his chest. "You know you have a curfew."_

_"And you know that I ignore it. You have your men follow me everywhere anyway." It was true; Henry Lawson didn't trust anybody and especially not Miranda herself. He had an endless amount of mercenaries and bodyguards on retainer, half of which were employed solely for Miranda._

_"That is absolutely besides the point," Henry said, visibly trying to rein in his temper; clearly, he was fighting a losing battle. "I am your father, and I'm only concerned for your safety."_

_She snorted, shrugging off her jacket and placing it on the coat rack before breezing past him. "You're only concerned for your legacy. You're not trying to protect me, you're trying to protect your precious dynasty! I could be anyone for all you care."_

_Henry stopped her by grabbing her wrist tightly, growling. She whirled around in response, eyes furious. "Don't you dare speak to me that way, you little brat." His face was purple with rage. "'Could be anyone'?" He quoted in a snarl. He shook his head, disbelieving. "No, you could not be just anyone," Henry hissed, spittle flying." You will never **be** just anyone. You are Miranda Lawson, and I chose it to be that way. I chose everything about you. I can say this with more pride, more conviction, more truth than any parent with a child of natural, biological birth: I…**made…** you."_

_Utter loathing roared through her veins; her blood sang for his. But she couldn't do a damn thing. Not just yet. Wrenching her wrist away, she settled for glaring daggers at him. "You've made your point. Can I leave yet? You're going to ground me, I'm going to do nothing in my room but study or train either way…I don't really think we need to do this all over again."_

_"You're right," her father said softly, scowling and letting her go. "You're free to leave then."_

_She rolled her eyes, walking back towards her room and glowering the whole way._

_"Miranda, pet," he called out. Miranda paused. Something in his voice unnerved her._

_"Yes, Father?"_

_"Next time you see this…Niket, was it? Tell him I said hello. And that I'd very much like to meet him. It isn't fair that I haven't yet, pet. Stubbs tells me he's one of your very best friends."_

_Icicles pricked at her insides. "…Yes, Father." She said it like a curse, shakily walking back to her room as Henry smiled to himself._

_._

.

.

.

_"So what exactly are you saying, doctor?"_

_"Your daughter will be unable to have children, Mr. Lawson. I am sorry. I can tell her if you'd like."_

_A pause. "No, thank you, doctor. I'll be the one to break the bad news," he lied smoothly. "Take care," he called out as the doctor took his leave._

_He tapped into his communications device, sighing. "Cameron? It's Henry Lawson. I want another set of DNA removed from cryo and prepped. Yes, damn it, another…I think Miranda would love having a little sister, don't you?"_

.

.

.

"All right there, Tali?" Ken Donnelly asked. "You've been staring at that screen for five minutes straight."

"Kenneth, you're being irritating. Maybe she's being thorough."

"Thorough? What's that?" he teased.

"I'm fine," Tali replied absently. "Just…some numbers that didn't seem right. I've corrected them; everything should be fine now."

"Everything'll be 'fine' once we kick some Collector ass," Ken said. "I can't wait until the Commander finally gives us the order to go through the relay."

Gabby rolled her eyes. "Like you'd be doing any real fighting, Kenneth. You'll probably be down here cowering near the drive core."

"I resemble that remark. I mean, resent. But anyway, Tali, speaking of the Commander, how is she doing? She didn't look too well before, but I suppose that's to be expected."

"She's…" A flash of kind blue eyes, saving her from the Shadow Broker's men: _Thank you. No, I'm all right. You saved my life. My name's Tali. S_aving her from the geth: _Shepard blasted through using mining lasers before. I wish she were here…_Saving her from exile: _I got better, Shepard. I got you _and _I don't trust anyone enough…Well, not quarian, at least. Bosh'tet…no, I'm not blushing…_

Then, just as quickly, the same blue eyes filled with hatred and rage, unhindered by the Commander's usual self-control and calm demeanor. _I'll kill you all! The Reapers will prevail…_

"Tali?"

She blinked. "She's…fine," Tali lied. Kenneth just wondered at her suddenly very limited vocabulary, and said nothing.

_Keelah, please let her be._

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_"I want to speak with the Illusive Man," she demanded. Her attempt at authority was undermined by her bedraggled, haggard appearance; the graze of a bullet ripping open her sleeve; and the crying baby in her arms._

_"Young lady, I don't—"_

_The hand not cradling Oriana to her body ignited in a blaze of blue biotics. "I don't care if we talk in person or via telecomm. Just get me the Illusive Man. Now."_

_The Cerberus operative (glorified secretary, Miranda thought acidly) did not hide the blatant roll of his eyes before speaking through a commlink. "Sir, there's a young woman here that wishes to speak with you." He sighed. "Yes, sir, I know you were not to be disturbed" – he glared at Miranda – "but she insisted, and it looks to be a…dire situation."_

_Miranda bounced Oriana against her hip, cooing and murmuring words of consolation, unsure if they were for the baby or for herself._

_"Her name? Uh.."_

_"Tell him it's Miranda Lawson. Henry Lawson's daughter. As in, the man that probably funded the construction of this building and half of Cerberus's projects?"_

_Clearing his throat, he nodded. "M-miss Lawson, you should have said…" Miranda heard irritable barking through his commlink. "There's a communication hub upstairs," the operative said. "Go right on up, Miss."_

_"I think I shall," Miranda replied, insufferably smug. Oriana just giggled and chewed on the ends of Miranda's hair._

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Wearily, Acting Commander Miranda Lawson slumped into her office chair only to be pinged by one of her consoles, alerting her to a new private message.

She sighed and rubbed at her brow in frustration, opening the secure message with trepidation.

**Miranda,**

**I trust that you have given some thought about the fate of the Lazarus Project – it is either salvageable or not, and your judgment is sound. I have made it clear what your options are, and I know that you will make the right decision. All that I ask is, for brevity and humanity's sake, you make and execute the decision by the end of the night. The Lazarus Project will be completed as of today.**

**You know that I will never question your capability, for which I have the utmost respect. I simply wish to reassure you that you have both my trust and confidence, and to remind you that the fate of humanity is in your hands.**

**The Illusive Man**

.

.

.

As quiet as every level on the Normandy seemed, there was an intensity that invaded every floor, making everyone restless, jumpy, and worried. Liara paced Shepard's room alone; Miranda stared outside of her window; Jacob added three hundred more crunches to his routine; Kasumi poured herself another drink; Grunt unloaded and reloaded his Claymore; Mordin nearly dropped a test tube; Garrus miscalculated the numbers for calibration again; Thane and Samara both intensified their meditation sessions; 1,183 geth programs contemplated the newly-given name of Legion; and Tali re-examined the drive core for the fifth time.

Meanwhile in the underbelly of the Normandy, Jack stared at a well-used deck of cards next to her equally tattered leather journal, and decided to write.

_My soul_

_Burns_

_With a fire of darkness_

_Quenched only in the pain_

_Of loneliness_

_I hold my breath waiting_

_Until spots appear black as the past_

_And fill my lungs up with lies of hope_

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"Councilor Anderson?"

He smiled honestly for the first time in days; politics, much like the military, hardly provided much reason for joy or amusement, but a little reunion certainly did. "Chief Williams," Anderson said, grasping her hand in a sturdy soldier's grip. "I miss the days when it was just Captain Anderson, but I have to say, it's very good to see you."

She chuckled. "And you, sir." Ashley Williams saluted, a habit she clearly never intended to break, and settled into the chair next to him.

"What can I do for you?"

Her easy smile disappeared, her face melting into the well-used, expressionless mask of an Alliance soldier. "Sir, there have been some…unsettling reports from the far reaches of the traverse."

Anderson frowned. "Considering anywhere outside of the Terminus systems is technically not Council space, I trust there is more reason for telling me this?

She hesitated, an unusual occurrence. "Simple scout ships, sir, but…but I felt that I should report to you directly."

"Why's that?"

"It's…I think it has to do with Shepard." Ashley looked away. "I know you believe the Commander, and God knows I want to. But after all that happened, after all this time, after she _died _and just waltzed back into our lives," Ashley said harshly, pain bitter on her tongue, "it's so hard to believe a lot of things."

"I understand," Anderson's voice was gentle. He laughed a little wryly. "I suppose that's one word to describe her. Unbelievable."

"Councilor," Ashley said. "The sightings…" she sighed as if the very effort to drag out the words exhausted her. "The reports said they looked like rachni scout ships. As in, the practically extinct rachni that Shepard saved but also let loose on the world, potentially allowing for another Rachni War."

Anderson eyed her thoughtfully, and then took a long swallow from his water glass. "As I said," he chuckled, half in disbelief at the news and half in pure amusement at Williams's expression. "Unbelievable."

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_Blood everywhere. Blue, green, red. Lots of red. So that's what it was._

_"How could you?" A voice accused behind her, full of rage and incredulity. She whirled around only to face a bruised and battered Miranda, holding a gun to her face._

_Shepard opened her mouth, but no sound came out._

_"You killed them," whispered Miranda, blood matting her hair. "You killed them all."_

_Shepard helplessly looked down at her hands. They, too, were covered in blood._

_None of which was hers._

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_**From: Ilium Medical Center, Prenatal Care Department**_

_**RE: TEST RESULTS, PATIENT 12-66AD-1**_

_**Miss Lawson,**_

_**As per your request for privacy, this message will be removed from our database upon confirmation of send integrity.**_

_**While we cannot firmly attribute the cause of the benign neoplasm to the irregularity in your genetic makeup, we can confirm that the progressive damage renders you unable to conceive a child.**_

_**About 12 percent of human women ages 18-54 have difficulty getting pregnant or staying pregnant according to data obtained from the Institute of Species Research (ISR). There are many support groups if you wish to discuss your condition and several options available should you wish to consider the adoption of a child.**_

_**If you require further consultation, please contact our communication officer.**_

_**Sincerely,**_

_**Dr. Banner Grenway**_

_**Department Medical Director**_

_**Illium Medical Center**_

_Miranda stonily closed the message, watching her console safely and securely delete any traces of it._

_Numbly, she walked over to one of her lounge chairs, and stared at her clenched fists until she could no longer see, her eyes swimming in the salt of her tears._

_"Miranda, do you have a minute? I'd like to discuss those mineral scanners—" Shepard paused. "Oh. Um." Uneasily, she walked towards Miranda like she would a wounded varren. "Is everything okay?" She winced at the banality of her words._

_Miranda sniffed, wiping at her eyes. "The…um…the dust in here is terrible."_

_Shepard laughed gently. "Surprisingly, so is your ability to lie." At Miranda's continued silence, the Commander sobered. She cleared her throat and edged back towards the door. "Well…you know where to find me if you want to talk about…your allergies," she finished, flustered. Shepard rubbed at her neck, looking unsure if she wanted to say anything further. She bit the bullet. "Miranda, I want you to know that I…I care. You're not only part of my squad, you're—" here, Miranda looked up, and Shepard flushed a little – "you're my friend."_

_Miranda stared._

_Shepard coughed. "Well. As I said, you, ah…know where to find me." She turned towards the door with a little wave until Miranda's broken voice called her back._

_"…I can't have children," she blurted, startling them both; Shepard turned green while Miranda went pale._

_A second, a moment, an eternity passed between them, until Shepard crossed the room with purposeful strides._

_Miranda didn't look up at Shepard when she was suddenly at her side, nor did she stop the few tears that managed to escape. Shepard didn't say another word, didn't say nonsensical, meaningless words of comfort. She didn't need to: Shepard silently reached out and Miranda held onto the offered hand like a lifeline, and it was like everything that needed to be said, was._

_._

_._

_._

She held the syringe in the palm of her hand, wondering why it suddenly felt heavier than it had that morning when she obtained it from a concerned Mordin.

Miranda searched for the flicker of hope Shepard always inspired, prayed to a god she didn't believe in that everything would work itself out, and solemnly headed towards the medical bay.

.

.

.

Shepard's eyelids fluttered in the darkness of the clinic and her hands twitched at her sides.

_You have done well, Shepard. Soon, we will keep our promise, and together, we will eradicate those who have silenced us, we will –_

Light exploded behind her eyelids in a burst of red and black, her body contorting against its restraints as miserable screams and high-pitched screeching assaulted her ears. Only the deafening voice overpowered the Prothean and human death cries ringing in her ears.

_**SHEPARD, YOU HAVE FAILED.**_

.

.

.

_"I…" She had finally found her voice, but it came out like a croak. Didn't mean to, didn't want to, she couldn't help it –_

_**Kill her, Shepard.**_

_"This is all your fault," Miranda whispered angrily._

_"No," she protested, but inside, her heart and soul screamed yes. "I…"_

_**KILL HER KILL HER KILL HER**_

_With a scream, she launched forward so quickly it was impossible for Miranda to dodge, and Shepard instantly knocked the gun out of her hand._

_A powerful blow to the head muted Miranda's struggling, and that made it all the more easier to wrap her hands around that beautiful, pale throat, the same one she had showered kisses on days before, and instead, paint it with bruises the shape of her fingertips._

_She shivered; the strangled sound Miranda made was like music to her ears, a complement to the deep, rumbling laughter that she heard only inside her head._

_"No!"_

.

.

.

"No!"

Shepard would have lurched upwards had she not been restrained. Instead, she merely surged against her confines, struggling and straining, until finally, she collapsed backwards in exhaustion.

"Shepard," Miranda said worriedly. "I…" Emotions warred across Miranda's face, her brows furrowing as she debated whether to approach.

"Miranda." Her voice was hoarse from screaming and her skin was pale with cold sweat, but something about her made Miranda relax a little. She looked into tired, bloodshot eyes, and instead of the animalistic rage she expected, Miranda only saw….she only saw… _Oh God._

"It's you," she whispered, her heart doing somersaults around her chest.

"It's me," Shepard confirmed, voice weak. The familiar little smirk held no trace of belligerence or malice, and suddenly instead of performing gymnastics, Miranda's heart leapt into her throat and stayed there.

"Oh God," Miranda said aloud as she rushed over to her side, stroked the sides of Shepard's face as a tear dripped down her own. "Damn it. Bloody allergies."

"Allergies. Right," Shepard rasped with a small smile.

"You're an ass." Miranda couldn't help but retort, relishing in the feel of Shepard's nose buried in her neck as she held her tightly.

"Thanks." Shepard inhaled the familiar subtle scent that was just so_…_so _Miranda_. She couldn't get enough. "God, I've missed you. I missed you so much." She frowned, tugging at her restraints. "I wish these weren't in the way…I want to…" Embarrassed, her throat seemed to swell shut. _I want to hold you._

Mournfully, Miranda pulled away. "Shepard, I can't."

"I wouldn't ask you to," Shepard said. "In fact, even if you suggested it, I'd refuse. I don't know when Harbinger is going to come back…It's too much of a risk." As though simply mentioning his name called him into being, a tingle, down near the base of her spine, slowly crept upwards as the veins in her brain started to throb. _No._

Torn, Miranda paced across the floor. "How could you do this? Do you know how stupid this all is? We did everything we could to revive you just so you could throw your life away like this? What the hell did you think you were going to accomplish?" Miranda ran a hand through her hair in frustration, the dark strands in disarray. "I've seen you do idiotic things in the name of heroism, Shepard, but I've never imagined you could something so irresponsible, so ridiculous, so—"

"Miranda," Shepard panted. "Can you yell at me later?" The darkness whispered to her, called to her like a siren, and she felt herself slipping.

"Damn it, if there's even going to _be_ a 'later'," Miranda mumbled then returned to Shepard's side. She grabbed at one of her clammy hands and held it tightly within her own, frustration gone in the face of her worry. "What's happening? Does it hurt?"

"Like a son of a bitch," she ground out. Gasping, she squeezed her eyes shut, gritting her teeth. "It takes so much to resist," Shepard said haltingly. "It's like half the time, you believe everything he says. The other half of the time, even if you don't, he's inside of you. He is you. And you are him. But you watch yourself do everything you don't want to, and there's nothing you can do but scream on the inside."

"But you can fight it, you've done it before," Miranda insisted, unable to do anything more than move the errant strands of hair out of Shepard's eyes.

"Only once, and it exhausted me. Not to mention hurt like hell," Shepard said, wincing. It felt like a krogan had her head between his hands and was just squeezing mercilessly; unconsciousness, or worse, Harbinger, edged closer. "Miranda…"

"Shepard, I…"

"Anyone I've ever seen indoctrinated I've ended up killing. Or they've ended up killing themselves. Fai Dan…Saren…Either way, there's no way to stop it. You know this." She stared at the ceiling. "And…so do I."

Miranda said nothing.

"He ordered it anyway, didn't he? The Illusive Man?" Shepard asked, already knowing the answer. "God, the first time I agree with his fucked up decisions and it ends with me dying. _Again_." she joked weakly. "Fuck," she groaned as a wave of excruciating pain washed over her.

"How can you joke at a time like this?" Miranda hissed. "This is serious, Shepard."

"Fine," she grunted. "I'll be serious. I'm serious when I say that if this is going to happen, and it is, I want it to be you. No one else. I trust you. I'd do it myself but you know if he gets ahold of me…" She looked away for a moment, then regained her resolve, looking directly into Miranda's worried eyes. "I'm serious when I say that I believe you can do this without me, that you need to trust yourself as much as I trust you. Okay?"

"Yes," whispered Miranda.

"I…I don't have much time," she struggled. "Miranda, I…I want to tell you…"

Miranda's eyes widened. "Don't say it, please." Miranda had never begged for anything in her life, but she was sure as hell begging now. "I don't want to hear it like this." She cupped Shepard's cheek in her hand, thumb stroking the skin there. "…And I don't want to say it like this either," she whispered meaningfully.

Shepard's eyes suspiciously glistened as she nodded once then turned her head to press a reverent kiss to Miranda's open palm. Once more, she said nothing. Everything that needed to be said already was.

.

.

.

The colony of Ferris Fields took only about fifteen minutes to abduct, but they still had millions of pods to fill. It was almost too simple, Harbinger thought. Colonies crumbled before him, and soon, all of those pods would be full, and a new Reaper nation would be born.

Harbinger smugly targeted yet another colony on the map and plugged in the coordinates. It would be far more enjoyable when Shepard recovered and eradicated everyone on that irritating ship to lead the next abduction herself. The looks on those pathetic humans' faces…the trouble of dealing with Shepard was worth it.

"Oh, Shepard," Harbinger mused. "It is almost a pity that I will have to kill you after all this." He thought of the fallen Sovereign, and recanted. "Almost."

.

.

.

"It's a simple injection," Miranda explained quietly. "Directly to the cardiac muscle. Within a few minutes it should be working. Your heart will stop and…" she trailed off.

"From getting spaced to getting euthanized. What a downgrade."

"Shepard." Miranda's voice was sharp. She bit her lip. "Maybe we could give it one more day, you could try again…"

Shepard fiercely shook her head. "_Now_," she rasped. "I need you. I can't hold him off much longer."

Hesitantly, Miranda nodded as her heart thudded in her chest. She uncapped the syringe, pressing the needlepoint against Shepard's breastbone. "Shepard…"

The single hand that Miranda had removed the restraints from shakily covered hers, and she attempted a weak smile of reassurance. "Go on."

Again, Miranda nodded. She swallowed the lump in her throat and tried to steady her hand, terrified that she'd screw it all up. One unavoidable twitch, one wrong move…

"Hurry…I don't… I don't want to die while he's controlling me," Shepard urged, her body trembling more and more with each moment of Miranda's hesitation. "I want to die like this." Despite the anguish painted on her face, she smiled, and Miranda had never seen her look more beautiful. "With you."

Miranda leaned forward, pressing her lips to Shepard's for what could be the last time. As one stubborn tear dripped down her face, she forced the needlepoint past muscle and bone, ignoring the other woman's sharp gasp of pain against her mouth and just thinking, hoping, praying over and over again, _please let this work._

Only when Shepard's hand fell from hers, dropping back to the table lifelessly, did Miranda pull out the empty syringe and breathe a shuddery, ragged breath.


	11. Chapter 11

**11.**

The first time she died, there was heat.

Everything burned: the debris from the Normandy, the bits and pieces of her dead crew, the escape pods that didn't make it. Shepard burned: her lungs, for lack of air; her eyes, in the realization that her struggle was futile; her heart, with the rage and despair that after all this, after everything with Saren and Sovereign…it was over. An ambush by some unknown assailants that lasted only minutes and all of it was over, just like that. She thought of Liara, and struggled to keep her eyes open until inevitably, reluctantly, they forced themselves closed.

This time when she died, there was cold.

No burning explosions, no dying screams of terror and fear, just the white ceiling and white walls of the medical bay, and the feeling of her lungs seizing up like she just jumped into the Arctic. Her chest stiffened rather than gasped for air, and instead of the fiery red of flames, instead of the hot anger she felt before, she was consumed by the icy blue of Miranda's eyes. There were no ominous voices seducing her towards darkness, there were no rumbling promises and threats from Harbinger: in fact, there was no sign of his black presence at all, like he had dissipated into oblivion.

This time when Darby Shepard died, she smiled, and succumbed to the heaviness of her eyelids like she was merely drifting off to her first peaceful sleep in ages.

.

.

.

_"How did you do it, Shepard?"_

_Shepard looked up from her beer bottle, peering over at Miranda. "Do what?"_

_"I've read your file. I know your background. Hell, everyone knows the great Commander Shepard was once a delinquent with a penchant for attracting trouble. You were part of a gang and were slated to be the next leader had you not joined the Alliance," Miranda said._

_"Impressive," Shepard replied. "You didn't have to snoop through my files, you know. You could have just asked."_

_"Don't change the subject. And I am asking you, right now," said Miranda, taking a pointed sip from her wineglass._

_"Touché."_

_Miranda's eyes twinkled. "Mm-hmm."_

_Sighing, Shepard rubbed at the back of her neck after setting her beer bottle down with a thunk. "Are you really asking how, or are you more curious as to why?"_

_Miranda pondered that for a moment. "I suppose both, really."_

_"As to the how: not easily. There isn't really a way to just 'quit' being part of a gang. If I hadn't been recruited, the only real form of defection is death. But as an Alliance recruit…well. No one wants a dead soldier on their hands. Not even the toughest gang leaders. Besides, I was rushed off-world soon after joining anyway."_

_"That must have been nice," Miranda noted._

_Shepard gave a barely imperceptible nod. "The Alliance looks after their own. Well. Unless you die in some sudden attack by the Collectors, and then they leave it up to the pro-human terrorist cells for that." Her smile was wry._

_"Mm." Miranda finished off the rest of her wine before settling back onto her couch, sinking deeper into the cushions as the pleasant buzz of the alcohol started to overcome her. "And as for the why?"_

_Shepard laughed. "Why do most people do any of the things they do?"_

_"Greed. Power. Money. Revenge-" Miranda rattled them off easily._

_Shaking her head, Shepard looked at Miranda with barely hidden fondness. "Love."_

.

.

.

As soon as Shepard's eyes closed, Miranda tossed the syringe into the biomedical wastebasket and surged forward, pressing two fingertips to Shepard's pulse point for a few seconds. There was nothing.

"Yes," Miranda breathed, before frantically accessing the intercom link on her omnitool. "Mordin. _Now._"

"On my way," came his tinny response. The distance between his lab and the medical bay was only one floor, but the seconds dragged on like decades.

The back of Miranda's neck started to bead with cold, nervous sweat, and wordlessly, she placed her hands on Shepard's sternum and began powerful, rhythmic compressions.

.

.

.

_"Love?" Miranda asked, surprised._

_"Yes, Miss Lawson, there is such a thing," Shepard teased. "There was a girl. Woman, really. You look perturbed, Operative. Was that not in my file as well?"_

_Inexplicably flustered, Miranda curled her legs underneath her in discomfort. "Your relationship with Dr. T'Soni is well-known, but..."_

_"Was," the Commander corrected. "My relationship with her…" Shepard paused. "…was."_

_"Oh. I see. I thought that…well, everything with the Shadow Broker—" Miranda felt a little foolish, like the awkward teenager she never was._

_Shepard exhaled sharply, and Miranda took that as her cue to drop the subject. As quickly as the frown came upon her face, a grin plastered itself onto Shepard's face, looking a little forced. "So. As I was saying…"_

_._

_._

_._

An indisputable fact: Miranda Lawson was the "perfect" woman. Smart. Confident. Beautiful. Her father had practically written her destiny in stone, one that spoke of unquestioned authority and astounding ability. So what if it had only cost her her self-identity or any real connection to those around her? It was all incredibly Machiavellian. Henry Lawson had the dynasty he always lusted after, and Miranda Lawson would have everything anyone ever struggled for: power, beauty, riches, intelligence, all of it without the struggle.

No one ever doubted her. No one questioned her. No one challenged her. Not until Shepard, at least, and as much as that fact frightened her, it fascinated Miranda. _Engineered for greatness, _Miranda had said. The both of them. But for Shepard, everything was a choice: when she made the right one (as she was wont to do) it was because of her skills honed over the years, her resourcefulness, her abilities. When she made the wrong decision, it was bad judgment, it was the fact that yes, the Commander was only human.

For Miranda, however, the standards weren't the same. They couldn't be. She had no choice _but_ to make the right choice, based on her intelligence and skill that was engineered in a lab and wasn't the confluence of cosmic interaction and destiny as Shepard's seemed to be. If Miranda did something well it was because she was forced to by way of her chromosomes. If she didn't, then it was _her_ fault; it was _her_ mistake and not her genes'. Despite all of her father's desperation to make her the perfect woman, the perfect _human_, he inadvertently prevented all possibility of that.

Miranda Lawson was and always would be more than just human but less than a god. A blur of gray in a world of black and white, imperfect in her perfection, flawed by her flawlessness: she felt like she was everything and nothing all because everything worth having, worth fighting for, was already hers, and she didn't even have to lift a damn finger. And what was it to be human, if not to endeavor for that which mattered most?

Not today. Not anymore. Shepard's, the world's, the _galaxy's_ fate was in her hands, and _that_ was worth fighting for.

_Why do most people do any of the things they do_? Shepard had asked her. Miranda hadn't known the answer back then, didn't believe in it.

Now, she had no reason not to.

"Just breathe," Miranda whispered, both to her hyperventilating lungs and to Shepard's unresponsive ones. "Just…breathe, damn it."

.

.

.

_"How much do you know about my time on Earth?"_

_"Just that you were part of a gang. Considering you were never convicted of anything beyond juvenile misdemeanor crimes, there really was nothing else on your file that particularly stood out or wasn't wiped clean."_

_"Tenth Street Reds. Have you heard of them?"_

_Miranda's eyes widened. "You…?"_

_Shepard's smile was wry. "Yeah."_

_Miranda couldn't help but laugh, partly out of amusement and partly out of sheer incredulity. "The weapons smuggling anti-alien gang. **Anti-alien.** As in pro-human, like Cerberus."_

_"Yep."_

_"As in, the so-called extremist pro-human group you refused to be part of **because** of its so-called prejudice against other species, and now, coincidentally work for."_

_Shepard took a long pull from her beer. "That's the one."_

_Sitting back and crossing her arms, Miranda smirked. "Now this I've got to hear."_

.

.

.

"I've made the line as secure as possible, but you should know that the walls have both eyes and ears around here," Liara said.

"I figured as much. But don't worry. Things have been relatively quiet over here," said Feron. His image crackled a little over the comm link. "Nothing terribly urgent to report."

"How are you doing, Feron?"

He smiled, looking rueful. "I should be asking you that." Sighing, Feron continued, "I still have nightmares, but this stupid VI wakes me up every time I do so I guess that's better than nothing. Everything's still a little sore, but I've been trying to build my strength up with a few exercises here and there too."

"I'm glad to hear that."

Feron couldn't help but notice the worry lines that marked Liara's face. "But really. I'm more concerned about you. How are things over there?"

"Oh," Liara mumbled, "I'm sure you can guess." Having shifted her eyes to the floor, the asari didn't notice Feron's gaze soften as she spoke. "To be honest, I am...how do the humans say it? At the end of my rope."

"Liara." The sound of Feron's gentle voice forced her to look up at his projected image. "I know it's easier said than done, but…" he fumbled for a moment. "Be careful, okay?"

Liara nodded. "I know. I should go, Feron. I want to check on her before I retire for the night."

A little crestfallen, Feron managed a smile. "Yes. Yes, of course you do."

"Is something the matter?"

"Not at all, Liara," he said. "Good luck. Come back home—I mean, _here_…um, in one piece."

Curiously, Liara looked at him for a moment. "I will try," she said absently. "Goodbye, Feron."

She shut off the comm link, her gaze lingering on the now black screen for a moment longer before shaking her head and leaving for the elevator.

.

.

.

_"The Tenth Street Reds, notorious for their smuggling activity and anti-alien propaganda. I grew up in the slums of New York City, where the Reds first originated. Unfortunately, it was our main base as well as the Dog Lords', the Reds' main rival…as a poor kid you had no choice but to join one of them. My best friend and neighbor, Billy…his brother was in the Reds, so they were the most familiar to me. Gave me a place to stay when my dad was too drunk to notice there was no food in the fridge. Gave me money for shoes when I needed it. Gave me protection from the Dog Lords when they kept ambushing me on the walk home from school everyday." Shepard looked away, embarrassed. "I was young and didn't know any better. Didn't think there was anything more to life than what they gave me. None of it really sat well with me, especially the anti-alien stuff. But situations like that…you don't have a choice. Or you don't think you do. I couldn't think about anyone but myself because I just couldn't afford to."_

_"You changed, Shepard. No one's blaming you," Miranda said when it looked as though Shepard didn't want to continue._

_"Nobody but me," the Commander said._

_._

_._

_._

"Took you long enough," Miranda hissed. "Hurry. We don't have much time."

"Indeed," Mordin nodded, dumping the vials and capped syringes he carried onto the table near Shepard's prone body. "Chances severely decrease after more than five minutes, almost zero after fifteen. Ideal window for resuscitation is –"

"God damn it, Mordin, _now!" _Miranda shouted.

"Yes, of course," he said, flustered. Placing two fingers against the Commander's still pulse point, he muttered to himself. "Complex would have induced asystole as expected." He gathered two small vials and uncapped two syringes. Handing one to Miranda and keeping one to himself, he directed her: "Vasopressin. Fill syringe with approximately 30 mL. Will be filling this one with epinephrine. Hopefully will induce ventricular fibrillation: more favorable."

Miranda did as was told, trying to be precise despite the damnable shaking of her hands. "Here," she mumbled, placing her filled syringe on the table and moving to restart the CPR compressions.

"No," Mordin interrupted. "Inject contents into blood vessel now. On the Commander's wrist would be best." Meanwhile, he finished topping off his own syringe and laid it on a tray. "Add this once finished, then begin compressions again. Need to be consistent. Need to prepare automated external defibrillator."

"The AED is underneath the cabinet over there," Miranda said. After a beat, she continued. "I've injected both, continuing compressions now—"

"By the Goddess, what's happened?" Liara hissed, rushing into the medical bay as the doors slammed shut behind her.

"No time," Mordin said, tone clipped. "AED located," he announced.

"What? An AED? Why…?" gaped Liara, horrified. A cold, sinking fear settled into her gut like lead. "_No. Not again._"

"Liara!" Miranda shouted. "Either help or don't. If it's the latter then you need to get the hell out of the way."

Something cold hardened within Liara's eyes; determination and her typical level-headedness finally kicked in. "Remove her shirt. We need to place the AED pads down _now_ if we're going to use them."

.

.

.

_"I did small things. Billy's brother was one of the top dogs and he had a soft spot for me, so he let me handle just transferring messages and goods for a while. When I got older, he figured I was more effective as a bruiser, a thug. I could handle a gun like nobody's business. But I just threatened shops for protection money. Went with him on trade-offs for protection, that sort of thing. But I never killed anybody. Never wanted to."_

_Miranda remained silent, watching Shepard shift in her seat. "Well. That is until Billy started to get jealous of me. How I was his brother's favorite, how I was a clear shoe-in for the top position of the syndicate. I didn't even want it…I was so sick of everything, so sick of all the bullshit and horrible things I had to do just to get by. But Billy didn't believe me."_

_"What happened?"_

_"I was seventeen when Billy took a handful of cronies, told me we were going on an escort mission." Shepard stared at the floor, unblinkingly. "It was a ruse. Took four of them to hold me down while Billy beat the shit out of me. He left me there, afterwards. Told me I was lucky they didn't do worse, but if I came back, they sure as hell would."_

_"Shepard…"_

_"That was when Mariana found me."_

.

.

.

Mordin stuck the pads onto the sides of Shepard's chest, turning the device on. It made a little beeping noise, and a broad smile came to the doctor's face. "Good. Drugs worked. No longer asystole, but ventricular fibrillation."

"What does that even mean?" Miranda snapped.

"It means he can shock her, maybe reinstate normal contractions now that she's no longer flatlined," Liara answered tersely. She turned towards Mordin. "Hurry, Professor."

Nodding once, the AED hummed as Mordin charged it for a moment. "Clear!" Mordin warned as Miranda and Liara scooted out of the way. A loud buzz deafened them as a bolt of electricity surged through Shepard's body, contorting her muscles in a disturbingly life-like manner.

When she settled back down, nothing happened.

"Again," Liara demanded.

Mordin complied without hesitation, and still, there was nothing.

"No," Miranda shook her head. "Try. Again."

.

.

.

_"Mariana?"_

_"An asari. Young. Only in her mid-hundreds," Shepard smiled. "Saw me lying there, left for dead. Got me a doctor and everything, let me rest up at her place, just out of the kindness of her heart. She never asked me for a thing in return, even though she saved my life," Shepard said solemnly. "And of course, like any dumb kid would, I developed a sad little case of puppy love."_

_._

.

.

Ashley Williams nursed the beer in her hand, scowling at anyone who dare approach her at the bar. The no-nonsense glare kind of put everyone off anyway. At least, the smarter ones stayed away.

She fiddled with the label on the bottle, still feeling wholly disturbed and confused by the scout reports she gave to Anderson and what they meant. Of course thinking about that led to thinking about Shepard, and inevitably complicated things, reminded her of times she didn't want to be reminded of.

Ashley sat there, drinking and remembering, feeling absolutely miserable and utterly, utterly alone.

.

.

.

_"Ash. Come on." The Commander's voice was as pleading as Ashley had ever heard it. "You know I wouldn't do anything unless it was for the right reasons. You **know** me."_

_Ashley glared, feeling both wary and stung. The best leader, the best friend she'd ever known, had sold out to **terrorists**. And here she thought Shepard had principles, or at least Ashley still wanted to believe that. The look in those achingly familiar blue eyes almost made her._

_Almost._

_"I…I thought I did, Commander," she said. Shepard looked crestfallen. "I would've…**we** would've done anything for you, Shepard. And you just...left."_

_"Trust me, death really wasn't my first choice," Shepard attempted a smile, hoping to lighten the mood and remind Ashley of the Shepard she knew. The Shepard that she still was, no matter what Ashley was led to believe._

_It was clearly the wrong choice._

_Ashley's face turned red in an instant. "Screw you, Shepard," spat Ashley, forcing the Commander to take one step back with the intensity of her vitriol. "You can't just… you can't just joke about things like that. You have no idea what it was like."_

"_I'm sorry, Ash," Shepard replied, voice quiet. "About everything. But I'm trying to make up for that now."_

"_By working with Cerberus?"_

_Shepard faltered. "I…it's a necessary evil, Ash. I owe them my life. And they're the only ones that are willing to listen to me," she said pointedly._

_Ashley shook her head. "I'm not sure about a lot of things anymore. And I know I've never exactly been in love with the idea of working with aliens. But I know that Cerberus is wrong. That **you're** wrong."_

"_Come with me, please. I need your help. I need a friend," Shepard said._

"_Don't, Commander. Just don't."_

"_Ash, wait—"_

"_Whatever happens, Shepard…" Ashley sighed. "At least…well. Just try not to die again."_

_With that, she turned away and never looked back._

_._

_._

_._

"Please, god damn it. Please, Shepard. Again!"

"Miranda, lack of oxygen for set amount of time detrimental to brain and internal organs. If treatment does not work within minutes…chances of normal recovery are approximately zero."

"_I said again!"_

.

.

.

"_You know you can't stay here forever, little one," Mariana smiled._

_Shepard looked up from her task of inhaling the eggs Mariana had cooked for breakfast. "I…" she fumbled. "But I'm not better yet."_

_Fondly, Mariana shook her head. "You've been better for two weeks, Shepard."_

"_Are…are you sick of me?" the teenager whispered, dejected and heartbroken._

"_Never," assured the asari. The way Shepard's eyes instantly brightened was a testament to the teenager's little crush on her, but that was just something that could only be resolved with time. "But I know you will do great things. You need to be out there doing them."_

"_I…you're wrong. I'm not really good at anything. I'm just a nobody."_

"_That's why you joined the Reds, isn't it? Because you wanted to be somebody." Shepard said nothing. "And how did that work out for you? Not well, as I recall," Mariana pointed out. "I don't think you're a nobody, Shepard. You're anything but that."_

"_But I—"_

"_You're a fighter. A soldier at heart. You've fought all your life, Shepard, so don't you dare quit now. Don't let what others think compromise who you know you really are."_

"_Can't…can't I just stay with you?"_

_Mariana's heart broke just a little. "I wish you could, little one. But I refuse to hold you back."_

"_You wouldn't be! I'll…I'll help you around the house, I could—"_

"_Shepard."_

_She sighed. "What am I supposed to do?" Shepard whispered, practically to herself._

"_What you've always done. Fight for what you think is right. Stick to your ideals, use your talents."_

"_So…I'm probably just going to end up as a garbage collector is what you're saying."_

_Mariana burst out laughing._

_"C'mon, Mariana, there's nothing for me to do. I barely passed high school, there's no way I could get into college right now…or maybe ever. All I've ever known is where the best place to punch someone is or how to fire a gun. Or how to avoid the cops."_

_"You're right," Mariana said thoughtfully. "There's nothing for you to do. Well, besides finish your eggs."_

_"Huh?"_

_"Eat your breakfast. I'm going to look into something for you."_

_Days later, Shepard found a brochure for Alliance recruitment on her nightstand._

.

.

.

"You're ridiculous. Commander Shepard's been dead for years."

"No way, dude. I heard she was spotted somewhere outside the Terminus systems. With Cerberus!"

"Bullshit. Aren't they that terrorist splinter cell?"

"Yeah. And think about it. If she were alive, wouldn't it make sense for her to join them? Defect from the Alliance and work for Cerberus?"

"Uh, no. Why the hell would she do that? She's a goddamn hero. Saved the Citadel and everything."

"Oh, right. From the '_Reapers_.' What-fucking-ever. Haven't you ever thought about how convenient it was that she was there just in the nick of time? That she saved the day but sacrificed thousands of human lives for the Ascension? What if she planned the whole thing just to play hero?"

"You're drunk. And paranoid. And an idiot."

"And you're a naïve idiot. Maybe it was all a government conspiracy, bro."

"Oh Christ."

Fed up with the two assholes' drunken rambling, Ashley Williams shoved off her bar stool with enough force to rattle the glasses on the table. "You should listen to your friend," she hissed. "You _are_ a fucking idiot." Rage welled up within her at all the false accusations, the immense amount of distrust towards a damn _hero _that saved tons of lives…

It was only until later, sitting quietly in her bed with a slight buzz, that Ashley Williams realized exactly where she wanted to be. Instead of questioning Shepard's decisions, maybe she would start looking into her own…

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.

"No! It has to work. It has to."

"Miranda…"

"You said it would work, Mordin! You said that it would fix everything!"

"What are you talking about, Miranda?" Liara demanded.

"Miranda. Clearly stated that death appeared to be the only solution for indoctrination. Clearly stated that formula would induce a specific type of death and _would have_ a chance of revival. Small chance. Huge uncertainty. Consequently, merely hypothesized. But you insisted that we try."

Miranda shoved Mordin aside, ignoring him. Grabbing the AED from his hands, she prepared one last electrical pulse.

"You…" Liara looked ill. "By the Goddess, you actually…you did this to her?"

The accusation fell on deaf ears.

"CLEAR!"

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.

_"She didn't just save my life. She changed the entire course of it for the better."_

_"She sounds like an incredible woman, Shepard. So she was the catalyst for everything?"_

_Shepard nodded. "Yes, she was."_

_"She must have…some motivation for all of that?"_

_"That was the thing. I don't think she really ever did, except to do something entirely selfless. I never looked at anything in my life the same way again. **Especially** the anti-alien bullshit."_

_"What happened afterwards?"_

_"After she gave me the brochure? I went down to the center. I was recruited. We had to leave for the Academy soon, off-world. So I did. But trust me, it wasn't easy."_

_"That must have been incredibly difficult."_

_"Hardest thing I've ever done, really," Shepard said. "But we wrote to each other. I sent her souvenirs and stuff from my travels, she kept me posted on her life. I kept promising to come back and visit her someday when I was on leave, but she was always travelling too. It was hard to work it out."_

_"I see. Do you still write to her?"_

_"I… did. Until my messages and letters just kept being returned after a few weeks of no responses from her."_

_"Oh..."_

_"Yeah," Shepard whispered. "She was killed during a robbery at her apartment."_

_"Shepard…I'm so sorry. That's terrible."_

_Blue eyes remained glued to the floor. "You know the funny part that's not so funny?"_

_"What?"_

_"The thief and killer was some newbie grunt that panicked during his initiation to a gang… And guess which gang it was?"_

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"Chief Ashley Williams here to see you, sir."

Anderson looked up from his computer console to see the soldier looking at him inscrutably. "Again, Williams? We start spending all this time together, people will talk," he teased.

She smiled, although the look in her eyes remained serious. "Sir, I think we're the ones that need to talk."

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_"The day I found out about Mariana…it was the first time I ever felt true bloodlust. It was…a very difficult year for me. It took a long time to stop wanting revenge, wanting blood for blood. To this day I'm still tempted. But that would ruin everything Mariana tried to teach me. The thought of disappointing her after everything that she'd done for me…I owed her more than that. And I was going to repay my debt by doing her will, by helping those who needed it. I was going to give her the justice she deserved instead of the vengeance I wanted, and I was going to fight for that."_

_Shepard looked a little sheepish after she finished. "So…there's my story I guess. There's the 'how' and 'why.'"_

_"Indeed," Miranda said, voice quiet. "Thank you, Commander. That can't have been easy." She reached over and placed a comforting hand on Shepard's strong shoulder, the muscle tense with nerves._

_"I've never really talked about it with anyone before. I've never really wanted to." Blue eyes locked onto Miranda's. "Except with you."_

.

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.

The first time Shepard came back from the dead, she awoke slowly by Miranda's urgent calls to her, by the rumbling of the station, and by the sound of gunfire and screams. She could barely open her eyes, and when she did, she awoke to the sight of the world collapsing around her. It was something she was incredibly tired of seeing.

This time…this time Shepard awoke in a flash, galvanized into life like Frankenstein. Her eyes flew wide open only to land on the sight of Miranda hovering over her with those big, beautiful blue eyes. Shepard was sure that was one thing she would never get tired of seeing.


	12. Chapter 12

**12.**

"_I can't believe you really didn't know anything about the 'great' Williams's legacy," Ashley muttered. "But I suppose that makes sense."_

"_Why's that?" Shepard asked, fiddling with a nearby gun before Ashley snatched it away for cleaning._

"_I was wondering why you didn't treat me like the pariah every other soldier does," she admitted. "I can't believe I—" Actually thought you were kind enough not to bring it up, fair enough to give me a chance without judging me for my family's past… "Anyway," she cleared her throat. "I guess now that you do know, things will change."_

_Shepard squinted. "I hate to sound like a broken VI, but again…why's that?" she asked with utter curiosity._

"_Seriously?" Ashley blinked._

"_Nothing's changed, Ash, except that things are a little clearer for me. Besides, if you want to play 'shitty background stories' with me, I'll win every time." Her grin was infectious. "Orphan card trumps everything."_

_Ashley burst out laughing. "You're ridiculous, skipper."_

"_Something like that."_

**.**

**.**

**.**

"I shouldn't have said the things that I did."

"Maybe. But she knows. She understands why you did."

"Does that make it better? I wish—damn. I don't know." She crossed her arms uncomfortably.

Only after a long sip from his glass did Anderson speak, looking at her with scrutiny. "I think you do, Williams. You just won't let yourself say it. What's so wrong about voicing your fears?"

Her feathers ruffled for a moment. "I'm not _afraid_, I just…I just wonder if I did the right thing. The Commander did some things that made me question her intentions, her beliefs. Now…" Her eyes shifted. "I guess she's making me question mine."

She looked like Shepard did after the Council grounded the Normandy at the Citadel. Angry. Confused. Lost. "Go with your instincts, Williams. Overthinking it may be making it worse."

Wryly, she smiled. "You know, they say the unexamined life isn't worth living."

Anderson snorted. "Whoever _they_ are haven't worked with Shepard."

Pondering that for a moment, Ashley fiddled with the label of her beer bottle, peeling the edges off. "I spent the last two years trying to do things I thought Shepard would be proud of. Being a good soldier. Helping others. Reviving colonies." She laughed a little, embarrassed. "I guess that sounds stupid…but it helped, you know? Keeping busy and thinking good things about her." She sighed, hesitating. Anderson remained silent, waiting her out. "Then we find out she's not only _alive_, she's working for the enemy…for everything I thought she stood against! I just…" By now she had torn off the entire label from the bottle, and was unconsciously tearing that to pieces. "I used to believe the world was black and white. Then Shepard came along…and I see shades of gray everywhere. And I can't stop."

"Ashley," Anderson said, as she grew quiet. "I can't say I know what she's doing or why. But something tells me that she wouldn't be doing this if she didn't think it was right. I wish I could be out there, figuring all of this out, but I can't. I just have to sit here and hope that there's something to all this Cerberus stuff, sit here and believe that the Commander knows the right thing when she sees it and does something about it. And you know what?"

"Yeah?"

"I do."

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.

"_I'm not asking you to trust Cerberus, I'm asking you to trust __**me**__!" Shepard called out to Ashley's back._

_Her step faltered, but never stopped. She overheard Shepard's next words, however, before she disappeared._

"_Commander? Are you…all right?"_

"_Yeah, Miranda…I'm…it doesn't matter. Joker, we need a pick up." She sighed, her voice dropping. "I…I've had enough of this colony."_

_Ashley's chest hurt._

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.

"You've always listened to your heart, Ashley. There wouldn't be all this confusion if there wasn't _something_ for you to be questioning."

"I just think—"

"No. Don't think. I don't care what you think. What do you believe?"

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.

.

"_Do you believe in God?"_

_"Everyone needs something to believe in."_

_"Why is it that every time you give me an answer to a personal question, you're deliberately obtuse?"_

_"You don't think it's acute when I do it?"_

_Ashley mimed gagging. "Damn, skipper, math jokes? Really? That was awful, even for you."_

_"You wound me, Ash," Shepard teased._

_"Not yet. Keep dodging the question, maybe I will."_

_"You're lucky I'm too nice to pull rank," Shepard said, smiling. "And to be more specific, no, I don't." Before Ashley could say a word, Shepard held her hands up, conciliatory. "But I get why people do, and I don't judge them for it as long as they don't judge me."_

_"Really?" Ash asked, surprise evident. "That's not usually the response I get." She paused, resting a hand on her hip. "But to be honest, sometimes I look out at everything, at everything humanity's accomplished, and I wonder how it doesn't make you think that something wonderful and powerful must've made all this. It can't just be molecules colliding in coincidence, can it?"_

_"I dunno," Shepard said thoughtfully. "I meant what I said. I think everyone needs something to believe in, whether it's a god or the God or science or whatever. Having something like that to rely on, to trust…that's what's important to me. That other stuff, how we got here or whatever, I don't think we'll ever really figure out. Maybe we're not meant to, you know? And maybe that's not what matters most."_

_"So what does?"_

_Shepard shrugged. "I dunno…carpe diem and all that, maybe. Living your life. Just trying to fucking live."_

_Ashley's eyes narrowed a little, disappointed. "That's it?"_

_Laughing, Shepard nudged the other woman. "Hey, it's a lot harder than you think."_

_._

_._

_._

_"She won't leave. We must evacuate the others."_

_"How could you just leave her?" Ashley yelled._

_Even beneath the protective helmet, Ashley could see the asari's eyes burn into hers. "She…It was an order, Chief Williams." There was an entire world of regret, anger, and despair in those simple words alone, more emotion than she had ever seen from the asari, and Ashley would've felt a little ashamed if she hadn't been on a rapidly burning ship. Another explosion rocked the Normandy, and Ashley felt the panic rising up like bile into her throat. "Now let's go, go, go! Get those people out of here!" Liara shouted._

_By the time they had evacuated everyone they could, they were far away enough to see through the little windows of the escape pods and to watch the ship they once called home burst into a million fiery pieces, the fate of their leader unknown._

_Later, much later, when Councilor Anderson somberly relayed the news of Shepard's fate aboard the Normandy, Ashley waited until she was in the privacy of her room to break her stony facade. Only then did she allow herself to throw her beer bottle against the wall, knock over some bookshelves, and swipe everything off of her desk into a miserable, broken pile._

_Collapsing on her bed, she had stared up at the ceiling numbly for hours, finally understanding her favorite superior officer's— her closest friend's - words. She wasn't going to cry. Crying was openly weeping and gasping for air, tears streaming down her face; it was pathetic. Just because one measly tear had escaped…it didn't mean…it—_

_She covered her face with her hands._

_"You were right, skipper. Suddenly it does seem a whole lot harder than I thought."_

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.

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"…I believe in Shepard. I believe in myself. I believe in a God that wouldn't let something like Shepard coming back to work for terrorists to happen without reason."

"And?" He prompted, willing his lips not to smile.

There was a strange brightness that grew in Ashley's eyes, and she didn't look so lost anymore. "And I believe that I'm not going to sort all of this out moping here on the Citadel."

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Someone was crying.

The air felt thin and it was hard to breathe, especially with the walls closing in on her like that. Her body cramped, felt sticky with sweat and God knows what else. Trying to quell the rising panic, she struggled to even her breathing, regain her focus. Shepard would come. Shepard would save them.

In the background, if she strained hard enough, she could hear horrible slurping, squelching sounds.

The crying got louder, turned into terrible, terrible sobs.

In the darkness, Kelly Chambers tried not to think, and tried even harder not to scream, until she realized at last that the sobs were her own.

.

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A trembling hand came up to her mouth as Miranda looked into familiar, albeit groggy, blue eyes. "Oh God…are you…is she…?"

"Fascinating," came the salarian's awed whisper. "Commander, can you hear me?" He said loudly, already reaching for a small light to check her pupils.

There was a genuine, beautiful smile, one that seemed to answer every unspoken question that lay on their lips.

"You don't have to yell, Mordin. I was dead, not deaf." The twinkle in those familiar eyes, ones that no one ever expected to open again, was as bright as the sun. "I'm all right."

"You ass," Miranda blurted, her voice hitching as she just barely avoided bursting into tears. "I was so afraid…I mean, I—we should…" Shepard merely brushed a weak hand against Miranda's shaky one, and she fell into a choked silence.

"Shepard," Liara cleared her throat softly, her own eyes suspiciously glassy. "I'm…I'm so glad to have you back, Commander."

"Liara," Shepard said in surprise, finally tearing her gaze away from Miranda's. "Trust me. I'm very glad to be back."

Liara laughed a little shakily. "I am sure, Commander."

As she moved to sit up, two pairs of hands, one blue and one pale white, shot up to assist her as Mordin began fussing over her with his omni-tool. "Seems normal. Heart rate and respiration levels all within acceptable range. Will need further testing and observation, however. Especially neuronal monitoring, blood tests, brainwave analysis."

"I don't feel him anymore," Shepard whispered, almost to herself. "Harbinger, I mean." She looked up at the others resolutely. "But he's right. We're not out of the woods just yet. I've got to-"

"No," Miranda shook her head. "You should rest, even for a few hours. I can handle things for a little bit longer."

"I don't doubt it," Shepard said, the proud look in her eyes speaking volumes.

Coughing a little, Mordin put away his omni-tool and scrutinized the Commander. "Will be back in a few moments. Need to retrieve testing tools from lab. Am…" Mordin gave a rare smile. "Happy to see you, Commander."

"Was that…an expression of emotion, Dr. Solus?" Shepard teased. "It's good to see you too." She turned back towards Miranda. "Miss Lawson? If you could inform the crew that there'll be a briefing soon. Once I'm up, we can sort everything out and start planning. And…I'm assuming your boss will want to speak with me too."

"Of course, Commander," came the soft reply, gentle and intimate. As Liara shifted her weight beside her, Miranda spoke, hoping the asari would take the hint. "Dr. T'Soni can watch over you while Mordin and I take care of things, right?"

"Yes," Liara smiled, and Shepard would've sworn that she saw a strange look of understanding passing between the two of them. After Mordin took his leave, Miranda lingered a bit, causing Shepard to abandon her curiosity for the moment.

"I'll be back soon," Miranda assured softly. "Be good, Commander."

Although Liara was still present, Shepard only had eyes for one person. "Always."

If Miranda hesitated when bending down towards Shepard, nobody mentioned it. She kissed Shepard's brow, the touch light as a feather, and then her lips brushed against the shell of Shepard's ear as she whispered so only the Commander could hear: "You'll get a proper greeting when we're alone."

Trust Miranda to give her another heart attack just moments after coming back from the dead. "Um."

"I'll see you later, Dr. T'Soni," Miranda said as she stood up and headed for the door.

"Yes, you will, Operative…I'd like to speak with you about something," Liara said absently, already beginning to fuss over Shepard once more.

"Oh, I'm sure," Miranda said, sotto voce. She forced herself not to look back as she left the room reluctantly for more reasons than one.

.

.

.

Elsewhere, Harbinger raged.

"This means nothing, Shepard!" He growled to no one as he tried for the nth time to regain control of her mind. He searched blindly, reaching out for any sign of her essence to devour, to control, but felt nothing. It was wrong, like a burning flame had just been snuffed out, without any trace of smoke. "Whatever you pathetic humans did, it will never change destiny. We will triumph, with or without Shepard, as we have before." He slammed down on a button on the control panel, his only solace in the screams of the humans slowly being liquefied, poured down more tubes and funneled to where they would be more useful.

He drew his gaze upward, towards the high ceilings littered with the thousands of pods that waited to be filled. That _would_ be filled, no matter what this insolent, insignificant human did next. How arrogant of this microscopic worm to think she could prevent the inevitable, how ignorant.

"I told you before, Shepard. You will learn. It seems that I will be the one to teach you."

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.

.

Miranda saw it coming, intentionally forced her body not to move against all instincts. Just because it wasn't unexpected, however, didn't mean that it wasn't going to hurt like a bitch.

The slap resounded through the tension-filled air. She straightened, ignoring the sting of her reddened cheek, and looked straight into blue eyes as cool and hard as her own. "You get one free one, and that's only because I don't think Shepard would like it if you came back looking like a bloody mess."

"You…" Liara hissed. "You can certainly go ahead and try, but I doubt you'll be successful in laying a hand on me, you bitch."

Miranda resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Like she hadn't heard that one before. "Are you going to tell me something new, Dr. T'Soni, or are you going to keep acting like a child?" She was being cold, she knew that, but if there was anything she relied on, it was her ability to save face.

"That's exactly what you are," Liara continued, pacing. Her eyes remained furious. "You resort to…to murder! All at the behest of your beloved Illusive Man? He ordered it, didn't he?" The scowl deepened. "I suppose I should have expected as much from a heartless organization such as yours."

"Lest you forget, _you_ handed the Commander over to _us_. And we brought her back to life…_twice._"

"You only brought her back because you needed a tool against the Collectors. And she wouldn't have been dead the second time if _you hadn't killed her_!"

"So what was _your_ reason, doctor? You gave her body to us, knowing what Cerberus really was, just because you couldn't stand the thought of her staying dead. Isn't that selfish in and of itself?"

Liara said nothing for a moment, and merely glared until her gaze faltered a little. "I…I had no choice. It was either you bastards or the Collectors."

"Correct. Which is exactly my point," Miranda retorted icily. "Sometimes there are no choices, and you must do what you think is best."

"Is that why you follow your orders so blindly?" Liara crossed her arms, staring Miranda down. "Because you're doing what you think is best? What about Shepard? You would so easily kill the one you supposedly love? _Terminate_ her as though she were less than human?"

It was only when the word 'love' was mentioned that Miranda stiffened noticeably, and Liara recognized a sore spot when she saw one. "You have no right—"

"_I have every right!_" Liara shouted. "You say you do all of these things to save humanity when your organization does everything to distort it, defile what it is you call being human."

"I…" Miranda could see truth and reason when needed, but she wasn't about to lose so easily, especially when this was more than just about her recent actions. "I admit that some of the things Cerberus does may be questionable," she said softly. "But what I did wasn't just to follow orders. I was going to do it regardless of what the Illusive Man had said. Dr. T'Soni…." She hesitated. "_Liara_, regardless of whatever personal opinion you may have of me, you know for a fact that there was reason behind this."

Liara remained stony and silent, and Miranda took that as a cue to continue.

"It was risky, yes, but that is the nature of this job, and the Commander knew that. Death was the only plausible solution to indoctrination, and you know that yourself. It was a chance, an opportunity even, and I took it with the Commander's own blessing." Miranda crossed her own arms, mirroring the asari's stance. "But I'm done explaining my actions to you, because we have yet to see the final outcome. The Commander may live, but we don't know if Harbinger still has any control over her. We can keep talking about this or do something about it."

"Fine with me," Liara retorted. "But I still don't trust you, and don't think for a second that I won't kill you if you hurt her again." She stormed out of the office without another word.

"I'd probably let you," Miranda said quietly to the empty room. She slid onto her couch, sinking into the cushions, and finally let out the shaky breath she'd been holding.

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.

"_I…I'm going to have to leave you, boy," Shepard said sadly to the mangy mutt. He looked up at her expectantly, mouth wide open in a pantomime of a grin. She patted his head, then tickled behind his ears. "Winston…check on Mariana once in awhile if you're in the neighborhood, huh, boy?" He barked, and Shepard laughed. "You've been a good friend, Winston Snufflejumper McAllister. Take care of her."_

.

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"Take…care of her…"

Mordin quietly wiped Shepard's sweating brow as she mumbled nonsensically in her slumber, and kept his eye on the monitors.

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.

_"Of course I'll take care of her, Jacob," Shepard said. "We can't have our favorite second-in-command out for the count, now can we?"_

_"You can stop talking about me like I'm not here, you know. I'm not deaf," Miranda groused._

_Jacob laughed, looking at Shepard knowingly. "Good luck, Commander."_

_"I'll probably need it," she muttered, waving to Jacob as he left the room._

_A sneeze interrupted her thoughts, and she turned towards her rather unwilling patient._

"_I didn't even know you could get sick."_

_Miranda sniffled into a tissue before blinking bleary red eyes. "Well. I can, so there you go. Nothing a day in bed can't fix."_

"_A day in bed that Dr. Chakwas and I both had to force you to take," noted Shepard as she sat down on the edge of Miranda's bed. "But the flu? Really? I would've thought you would only be caught by some horrific flesh-eating disease or a galactic epidemic. The great Miss Miranda… I-Don't-Know-Your-Middle-Name Lawson, laid out by the common cold."_

_Miranda scowled. "Oh, shut up. Go away if you're not going to be helpful like you said you were."_

"_Miranda, I'm not going to bring you your files. You shouldn't be doing work, you should be resting."_

"_You said you'd help. So help by bringing me my work or I'll get it myself."_

"_Count to ten, Shepard, count to ten," Shepard reminded herself. "Because I'm a good friend, I'll bring you __**a**__ file you can look over."_

"_I appreciate that," Miranda said, sipping at her tea. "For now," she muttered to herself._

"_Well, I did say I'd take care of you," Shepard winked. "And I heard that."_

"_Good. I wanted you to," Miranda replied, voice haughty. "So run along and get me that file, hmm?"_

"_You're not very fun when you're sick. You're extra grouchy."_

"_I'm never fun. And I'm not grouchy!"_

_Sighing, Shepard stood, arms akimbo. "Hey," she said with a cheeky grin. "Maybe we should get Mordin to prescribe me some precautionary meds for hanging out with you while you're sick."_

"_Don't be absurd."_

"_No, no, wait for it –" she paused, attempting to heighten the theatrics for her punchline. "I'll ask him for some…" she laughed, "__**anti-biotics**__! Get it? Anti-__**biotic**__? 'Cause you're…a….okay. No? Just me?"_

_Miranda's pillow hit her square in the face._

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.

.

"—some anti-biotics if infection begins. Doubtful. Will only show small effects of nitrogen narcosis. Minimal damage, however, considering extensive modification-"

"She's awake," she heard Liara say. "Why does she look so…so…?"

"Injection more than likely caused increase of nitrogen in blood. Normally extremely dangerous for humans but of course, Shepard's reconstructed body, powerful constitution…different circumstances. Hopefully just nausea, weakness, fatigue. Nothing that a little rest will not cure."

"What can we do for her?"

"Wait. And then perhaps should—"

"Uh…Mordin…" Shepard said woozily. "I think I'm going to be sick."

Before anyone could move, Shepard leaned over the edge of her bed and quite elegantly threw up on the floor.

"—get her a bucket," Mordin finished, grimacing.

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.

"Get her another beer, will you, miss?" Anderson asked the waitress. "You can put it on my tab. Thanks."

"You didn't have to buy me a drink," Ashley chided.

He shrugged. "Couldn't hurt."

She looked down at her clasped hands, thoughtful. "Captain? I mean… Councilor."

"Yes, Ashley?"

"…Thank you…for, y'know…" _Everything._

He smiled, resisting the urge to tease her. "Relax," he said, playing dumb. "The beer was only three credits."

Ashley laughed, really laughed, for the first time in days.

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.

His little chuckle was smug. "I see that you've been successful. I expected nothing less from you, Miranda."

She shifted her weight on her heels. "Of course we will need a trial period to see if Harbinger still bears any effect on Shepard. But I think the chances of that are small."

"Quite the ingenious idea, Miss Lawson," the Illusive Man said appraisingly, exhaling smoke in a cascade of blue and gray. "But again, I expected nothing less. You've gone above and beyond this time. I'm very proud of you."

The typical answering smile that Miranda usually gave at his praise was not there. "Thank you, sir," she said, a little stiffly.

He decided to ignore it. Perhaps it was just the after effects of her little spat with the asari, one that he overheard thanks to the many bugs he placed on the Normandy. "I'm terribly sorry about what happened to most of the crew. Thankfully, not everyone was taken. But we will get them back. And if we don't, we'll get our revenge on the Reapers with Shepard back on our side."

"Yes, sir."

"As great as your accomplishment was in reviving Shepard, you know that we still have much to do and so little time. The minute Shepard feels up to speed, we need her back on the field. I think it's time to take the fight to the Collectors."

"Yes, sir. I'll keep you updated. For now, she's getting some rest in the medical bay."

"Perhaps you should too. You look like hell. And Miranda? I wouldn't take longer than 24 hours. I fear that even that is being generous."

It was clear that yet again, it wasn't really a recommendation so much as an order.

She bit back a sigh. "…Yes, sir."

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.

She exhaled loudly, most of the nausea gone. "Well. Can't remember the last time I did that without having tons of alcohol beforehand," Shepard muttered, lying back down on the bed in exhaustion. "I'm sorry about the mess."

"I can't say it was a pleasure cleaning it up, but I think that is a small price to pay for having you back. The real you," Liara said.

"Thanks for being here," Shepard said. "I know that getting away from Hagalaz can't be easy. I'm assuming Feron is holding down the fort while you're away?"

Liara nodded in confirmation. "I can't stay too long, though. I wish I could go with you through the relay, but I've been gone long enough, and –"

Shepard grasped her hand warmly. "Liara, it's all right. I understand."

"Please don't say such things just to make me feel better."

"I'm not," Shepard protested. "Listen, you can do everyone a lot more good doing your smarty pants research stuff back there than you can following me on some crazy suicide mission. I know that. You know that."

"Don't let it be one, Shepard. If there's anyone that can do this and survive, it's you."

"I really _would _hate to die again," Shepard agreed, smiling weakly.

Liara frowned. "Don't make jokes."

"Well, I wasn't kidding. Dying again would be awful."

"_Commander_…" Liara warned, despite the smile that slowly grew on her lips.

Shepard's expression sobered. "It means a lot that you're here. About the things I said before…I wanted to-"

"Don't you dare apologize, Shepard. I know it wasn't you. What you can apologize for is being stupid enough to give yourself over to Harbinger."

Shepard shifted underneath the bed sheets. "Yeah. Wasn't exactly the brightest moment in my life."

"Or the finest," Liara added.

Shepard hesitated. "Liara…"

The doors to the medical bay opened, revealing Miranda and bringing their conversation to an abrupt close. "I'll come by later, Shepard," Liara said quietly. As she left, she said nothing to Miranda, who passed her with nary a glance.

Shepard looked curiously at Liara's retreating form before settling her eyes on Miranda. "That was weird," she noted.

"Well, we haven't exactly been crafting friendship bracelets while you were gone," Miranda said lightly.

Shepard laughed. "Good. I might get jealous. Speaking of jealousy…" she hedged.

Miranda sighed. "Let's save that chat for another day, hmm? I'm not really in the mood for talking," she murmured, smiling as Shepard scooted over in the bed with a little effort, patting beside her.

"What are you in the mood for, Miss Lawson?" Shepard asked, smirking. Miranda didn't reply except to rest her forehead against Shepard's once she settled in beside her.

"Don't get too excited," she chastised. "You need your rest, and Mordin told me you were…uh…sick earlier."

Shepard winced. "Not my proudest moment."

"Or most attractive, so you'll pardon me for not kissing you right now," Miranda teased, although she did plant a soft one on Shepard's brow. "I'm here to keep you company. I've… been away from you long enough."

"I agree. I'll let it slide," Shepard whispered, eyelids already fluttering under the weight of exhaustion and vertigo. Tucking her chin over Miranda's head, Shepard let the other woman's even breaths against her collarbone lull her further into drowsiness. "We have a lot to talk about. And I've got a lot of apologizing to do…listen, about…about everything…" she murmured. "Miranda?"

"Shh," Miranda said. "I don't want to talk about any of that now. I just want to..." she hesitated, her arms subconsciously pulling Shepard closer. "Nevermind. Sleep now. I'll be here when you wake up," she whispered, brushing a reverent kiss against the salty sweet skin of Shepard's neck as the other woman drifted off in slumber.

Just Shepard's scent alone, the feel of her deep, even breathing, the weight of her body next to her…it was almost too much, and Miranda was so very tired. The world still rested on her shoulders, its weight bearing down on her, and it was either sleep or cry. Miranda didn't have any strength, nor tears left, for the latter.

"…love you…" Shepard murmured as her arms, heavy with sleep, tightened around Miranda. She said it as simply as she would say the sky was blue.

Only then did Miranda realize she was wrong: as a wave of relief crashed over her, setting her insides spinning to the rhythm that her heart pounded, she felt tears sting her eyes once more. She buried herself further in Shepard's embrace that felt like a hot bath after a long day, like coming home after a long vacation.

Shepard was here, with her solid frame and her soft eyes and reassuring warmth. She wasn't being held hostage on a Collector's ship, she wasn't being tortured and possessed by Harbinger, and most importantly, she wasn't dead.

Coincidentally, Miranda had never felt more alive.


	13. Chapter 13

**13.**

Miranda murmured in her sleep, letting out a soft little sigh and burrowing deeper into her pillow. The sound of a zipper rasping slowly awoke her, however, and as per usual, she was instantly alert.

"Sweet dreams?" Shepard asked, a smile on her face.

Miranda merely stared. There, standing in front of her, was Commander Darby Shepard decked out in her full N7 armor, all glorious red and black patterns and shiny guns. It was imposing as well as impressive; Shepard always cut a great figure, but especially so in her armor and with the renewed vigor in her eyes. "Something like that," Miranda murmured. "Wait," she frowned, eyebrows furrowing. "What are you doing up?" She looked down at the white bedsheets that covered her. "Amendment: why are you up and I'm still in bed? You should be resting."

"You looked exhausted. I didn't want to wake you. Besides, you're cute when you snore."

"I do not snore."

Shepard pointed indiscreetly at her own bottom lip. "That little spot of drool says otherwise."

Flushing, Miranda reached a hand up to her mouth and felt nothing. She scowled at being so easily had. "Very funny."

The smirk on Shepard's face was so achingly familiar that Miranda couldn't help but return it. "I thought so."

She flung the sheets off of her body and stood abruptly. "Nonetheless, I'm not kidding, Commander. What are you doing?"

Shepard sighed. "I'm feeling much better. No nausea. No headaches. And especially, no Harbinger." She tilted her head knowingly. "But I'm sure the Illusive Man wants you to conduct one of your little interviews and have Dr. Chakwas check me out, right?"

"Unfortunately so," Miranda frowned, smoothing her hair and adjusting her jumpsuit. "I don't like this," she muttered. "You should get a few more hours of rest, you shouldn't be up and about. This can't be healthy."

"Neither can dying and being resurrected for the second time," said Shepard wryly.

Miranda was far from amused; although she had gotten a few hours' respite, more rest than she had gotten in days, a wave of exhaustion flooded over her, and she just snapped. "Stop it. Just stop joking for once and be serious, damn it." She intended on sounding as angry as she felt, but instead, her voice came out quiet and broken.

A little taken aback, Shepard fell into a guilty silence.

"I'm so angry at you," Miranda whispered harshly. "I almost hate you for what you did, for how damned stupid you were." She looked up at Shepard, who kept her gaze on her boots. "But I _know _I hate you for doing this to me. Making me a crying bunch of hormones that's utterly incapable and so damned _weak_—" By then she did not blink the tears back, merely turned away from the Commander and crossed her arms, hugging herself. "I've never felt so…"

"Helpless?" Shepard whispered. "Trust me. I know the feeling." She stepped closer, resting her hand on Miranda's shoulder, almost afraid she'd shrug it off. "Miranda, I know there's no amount of apologizing I can do for this, but I _am_ sorry. Just look at me. Please." Miranda complied, albeit reluctantly and still with arms crossed. Her grip loosened, however, when Shepard placed those warm, strong hands on her hips in a familiar gesture.

"How could you do that?" Miranda asked. "How could you do something so stupid? How could you just throw away everything…your life…_us_…"

"It wasn't like that!"

"Then tell me what it was like, Shepard. What the hell was going on in your head?"

Shepard sighed, not releasing her grip on Miranda's waist. "All that mattered was that Mordin and Jack could get the IFF back to you, that somehow I could get them out of there to safety." She shrugged, albeit a little weakly. "It wasn't the best or most appealing idea, but I felt like I didn't have any other choice."

"There's always a choice," Miranda argued. "How could you just sacrifice yourself like that when Cerberus put so much effort and time in getting you back, when—" _When I had only just gotten you, when I just realized how important you are to me – _"When you're so important to…the mission."

As soon as the words left her mouth, Miranda wanted to snatch them back. In that instant, she hated herself, especially with the way Shepard was looking at her.

"Is that what this is about?" Shepard asked, hands dropping to her sides and stepping away from the other woman. "You…you hate that your stupid Lazarus Project was an utter waste, and you're mad that all your sacred boss's work went down the drain with me."

"That's not what I meant…it just came out wrong. You know that isn't true, Shepard," insisted Miranda, cursing her inability to say how she really felt. How could it be that even after all this…the words were just so hard to say? Even harder, possibly?

"Do I?" the Commander rasped, lifting haunted eyes towards Miranda. "I…" She ran a hand through her hair. "I'm sorry. I feel…better, but what Harbinger did…it still lingers, like I still don't know what's real and what's not. My body is healed, but…"

"I'm the one that's sorry," Miranda said, stepping forward. That Shepard let her take her hand was a good sign. "I can't…I don't even want to imagine what happened to you on that ship."

"It's okay," Shepard said, squeezing the hand in hers. "I know that you think what I did was stupid. Maybe I don't disagree with you. But I knew that without me, you could still handle everything, you could still stop the Collectors."

"That's the point, Shepard," whispered Miranda, ashamed. "For more reasons than one," she cast her eyes down, cheeks tinged with pink, "I couldn't." Three words resounded throughout her head, three words that people everywhere did everything to hear from someone else. Three words that meant everything, three words that no one had ever said to her and meant it, three words that she had never said aloud to anyone else before in her life.

Miranda felt miserable.

"Hey." She felt herself be pulled into a warm embrace, molded against the firmness of Shepard's body and enveloped in her scent, and felt just the smallest bit better. "I'm here now, and we'll do this. Together. Yeah?"

Miranda nodded, holding Shepard tighter. "Together."

.

.

.

Liara was in the process of packing up her things, and while she had few of them on the Normandy, the task seemed to be taking longer than expected. With a defeated sigh, she curled into Shepard's leather couch, sinking into the cushions and pressing a hand to her forehead to ward off the oncoming headache.

When the doors opened, the rhythm of sure footsteps was as familiar to her as the beat of her own heart. "Hello, Shepard," she said, eyes still closed.

"Are you feeling all right?"

"I should be asking you that question," Liara said, pulling her hand away from the bridge of her nose and cracking open an eye. "Oh. Back to work already, Commander?" She asked, taking in the dashing figure decked out in red and black in front of her. The sight was achingly familiar as well, so familiar that it was like nothing had changed.

Liara looked closer and saw evidence of newer scars, of a new wariness to Shepard's posture, of a tired slump in her usually powerful shoulders. Everything had changed.

Shepard gave a weak half-smile. "It appears so. For you too, I guess," she said, gesturing at the pile of items Liara had yet to pack. "Back to work so soon…No rest for the wicked, eh?"

"If that were true, then you and I would both be getting the blissful amounts of sleep we deserve."

Shepard leaned against the wall, crossing her arms with a smile. "Yeah. But somehow I don't think it's ever been about getting what we deserve. Otherwise, I think I'd be a lot less lucky than you would be."

Liara chuckled a little. "You? What have you done that is so wicked, in between saving the galaxy and tons of lives?"

It was meant as a joke, but the way Shepard regarded her with such a serious expression on her face told her the Commander felt otherwise. "Some really stupid stuff, Liara."

"I told you not to apologize for that, Shepard. You know I don't like repeating myself."

"I know. It's not that," she said, then rubbed at her neck with force. "I just…I don't want to rehash anything. But with my track record, I just don't know when I'll get a chance to say the things I want to say to you ever again." She pushed off of the wall and approached Liara's sitting form on the couch, taking a seat next to her.

Liara merely watched the other woman stare at the palms of her hands, hunched over on the couch, until she finally seemed to muster up the will to speak again. "I've said these words to you before," Shepard said. "Lots of times, really. Seems like I was always kind of screwing up when we were together, or at least it felt like it," she added wryly.

"That's not true."

Pinned with laser blue eyes, Liara fell silent. "I'm sorry, Liara."

"I don't understand."

"I'm sorry for leaving you. I'm sorry you had to go through all of that alone. I'm sorry that I couldn't be there for you and I'm sorry that I still can't." Her voice grew hoarse. "I feel like I've left you in so many ways, and while I know there are times that it seemed like there was nothing I could do about it…I just…I guess I just wanted to let you know. I'm sorry that I hurt you." She swallowed, blinking rapidly. "God, it must've been pretty shitty for you here with Miranda, huh?" She gave a watery smile, one that Liara returned. "Sorry for that too."

"Not so bad. We had our…disagreements. Commander…"

"I told you before that a part of me will never stop loving you, and that's true. I want you to know that however I feel about Miranda will not change that."

A stubborn tear escaped Liara's eye. "I know, Shepard."

"Good," Shepard whispered, taking Liara's hand in hers. "Because now that I've gotten all my apologies out of the way," she smiled, "I want to thank you."

"Thank me?"

Shepard nodded. "For so much…for being my friend, being my first real love. For being you."

"Funny," whispered Liara. "I could say the same thing to you."

Shepard just smiled. "I'll miss you. Don't be a stranger, okay?"

"Never, Shepard," Liara said tearfully, as Shepard pressed a long, affectionate kiss to her cheek in goodbye.

.

.

.

She passed her on the way to the shuttle, and only regarded the other woman for a moment.

"Remember what I said to you," Liara said simply, as though forgetting was possible.

Miranda gave her a cool, quick nod, and left.

.

.

.

"Commander, how is it that you can do almost anything except _stay bloody still_?" Dr. Chakwas muttered.

"Sorry," Shepard grumbled, not in the slightest. "I've just seen enough of this medical bay to last me a lifetime."

"Several, you mean," Dr. Chakwas reminded, finally drawing her omnitool away from Shepard and refraining from poking and prodding further. "Despite the damage your body took, it seems perfectly healthy. Like nothing happened to you at all."

"We can pretend," muttered Shepard. "And what about my mind? Any weird wave things like when I found the beacon?"

"Brain function seems normal, Commander. I daresay you're in top form," came the reply. As Shepard moved to hop off the examination table, the doctor tutted. "Ah-ah. That doesn't mean you can just rush off and start shooting things just yet. I think you should still take it easy."

Shepard rolled her eyes. "But that's much less fun."

Chuckling, Dr. Chakwas regarded Shepard with an affectionate smile. "It's good to have you back, Commander. Now let's get the rest of our crew."

"You only say that because you know we'll be drinking some more of that Ice Brandy when we do."

"Well, obviously."

.

.

.

"I'll try to make this as brief as possible," Miranda promised. "It won't exactly be pleasant."

"Really," Shepard drawled. "Because I was expecting tea and cakes."

Sighing, Miranda reached across the couch to grab Shepard's hand. "I don't want to be doing this either, but understanding what happened there might help us with the Collectors."

"I know."

Miranda took a deep breath and cleared her throat, trying to look at Shepard as Operative Lawson. "What do you remember about your time aboard the Collector ship, if anything at all?" she asked formally.

"Oh, I remember," Shepard mumbled, wishing that she didn't.

.

.

.

"Jeff," EDI said. "You have an incoming message from the Citadel. Shall I open transmission?"

"Who's it from?" Joker asked distractedly as he tapped a few keys in front of him. "Kind of in the middle of navigating a giant ship in space, here."

"Councilor David Anderson."

"Ah, shit," he mumbled. "All right, guess we're going on auto-pilot for now. Hook me up, EDI."

.

.

.

"…and after that?" Miranda asked weakly.

Shepard shrugged, uncomfortable. "It just got to be too much. I guess there's a limit to my stubbornness. When nothing felt real or constant except for the pain…it was easy to give in."

"You were very brave, Commander."

"Doesn't feel like it. Once he had control over me, my whole body was healed. Like how the Collectors seem to regenerate and get stronger when he possesses them. And no," she said before Miranda could even ask, "I don't know how that works, just like I don't know how the mind control stuff works either. Sometimes I couldn't remember anything. Who I was…who _you_ were…"

"You were fully conscious and aware the whole time?"

"…yeah."

"Shepard…if you want, we can do this later."

The Commander shook her head. "No, let's just get it over with. Yes, I was fully aware, and yes, I could see every fucked up thing Harbinger was making me do. Sometimes his influence was so strong, it felt like I was doing the right thing. Like that was my purpose. Other times, when it was just me…I felt like screaming. Like I was in some weird mental prison."

Miranda pressed a few keys on her datapad as she unconsciously inched closer towards Shepard, resting her head on her shoulder. "I think that's enough, Shepard." With that, she tossed the datapad aside and curled deeper into Shepard's body, an arm around her waist. "I'm sorry."

"I know," Shepard said. "Listen…off the record…"

"Of course," Miranda said, peering at the other woman.

"This is going to sound crazy, but sometimes…" She hesitated, feeling nervous under the curious gaze Miranda gave her. "…sometimes it felt like there was someone else in my head. I don't know if it was my subconscious making me delusional in order to stay sane or what, but I heard a voice that wasn't Harbinger."

"What did it say?"

"It…it helped me," Shepard replied, a little unsure. "It was kind and reassuring. It told me that everything would be all right. And when Harbinger threatened to overcome all of me by erasing all of my memories, it helped me then too."

Miranda's brow furrowed. "Hm."

"I know. It was probably just some figment of my imagination or something. I don't know. I told you...pretty crazy, right?" Shepard asked, embarrassed.

"Story of your life," Miranda said. "And whatever it was, real or not…I'm glad it was there, Shepard."

"Yeah…" Shepard replied, entwining their fingers. "Me too."

.

.

.

"Kind of short notice, don't you think?" Joker asked, grinning. "And kind of a fucking crazy move."

She smirked. "And the idea of me doing something batshit crazy is so foreign to you?"

"Oh, not at all. Being around Shepard gets you used to levels of insanity that are…well, insane."

"Well said, Joker."

"I thought so."

.

.

.

"Mmph…maybe I shouldn't have put all my armor back on," Shepard mumbled between fevered kisses.

"Probably not," Miranda agreed, although she did assist in tugging the Commander's gauntlets off while managing to drag her mouth away from Shepard's and press it against the Commander's neck.

"God, I missed you," Shepard rasped. "I missed you so fucking much."

"Don't ever do something like that again," Miranda commanded, reveling in the way Shepard's hands, now free of their confines, buried themselves in her hair; the way Shepard's weight felt against her as the Commander pressed her into the couch; the way Shepard's mouth burned like hell and tasted like heaven.

"Never," she promised, as she pulled away only to plant reverent kisses along Miranda's jawline. "Miranda…" she murmured, almost like it was a prayer, "I-"

"_I_ hate to interrupt," Joker said over the intercom, "Really. I really hate to interrupt," he repeated, the leer evident in his voice.

"Were you spying on us?" Miranda hissed. "You little—"

"A-a-anyway," Joker added hurriedly. "Commander, you're needed down in the shuttle bay. It appears we have a visitor."

"Huh?" she asked. "Are we expecting anyone?"

"Not that I know of," Miranda muttered, frowning. "Joker, is there any reason you voided ship protocol by allowing someone onboard and failing to notify any superior officer? Especially considering we're _just recovering from a Collector invasion_?"

"I think the reason can explain itself once the Commander gets below deck. Gotta go, too much static." With a click, Joker's voice disappeared, and Miranda shook her head with a glare.

With a sigh, Shepard pressed one last kiss to Miranda's lips and stood reluctantly. Slipping her gauntlets back on, she allowed the scowling Miranda to adjust her collar and straighten unruly parts of her hair.

"Well…guess we better go see what this is about."

.

.

.

Commander Darby Shepard stood there, gaping. "You…huh?"

Miranda Lawson was far more articulate and more irritated than confused. "You made it clear how you felt about Shepard and the mission. What exactly are you doing here?"

She scowled a little at Miranda, but when she turned towards Shepard, there was a shy smile on her face and a very familiar salute.

"Operations Chief Ashley Williams reporting for duty…skipper."


	14. Chapter 14

**_Note: Sorry for the long wait, guys! Thanks for sticking with this. Don't forget, my interview for Allaine's femslash4fans blog has been re-scheduled for Thursday, May 3rd, at 9 PM EST. NQ Wilder and Rae D. Magdon will also be speaking. Again, thank you so, so much for reading and reviewing._  
**

* * *

**14.**

"You keep staring at her," Miranda scowled.

Shepard murmured absently, almost to herself. "Hmm.."

"I mean, actually staring. Quite intently, actually."

"Right," Shepard said, furrowing her brows in concentration.

Miranda sighed. "You know, yesterday I accidentally put Jack in the trash compactor and hit 'eject'."

"Awful," agreed Shepard, frowning.

"Then I took off all my clothes and danced around the medical bay."

Shepard didn't even blink. "You are a very good dancer."

A sharp huff blew a strand of hair out of Miranda's eyes and she barely restrained the urge to growl. "Oh, and right before Liara left, she and I decided to have angry hate sex on your bed. I think we broke the headboard."

"I'm glad you two are getting along, I-wait, what?"

Miranda rolled her eyes, muttering. "Of course that's what gets her attention." Shepard still stared, and impatiently, Miranda waved a hand in Ashley's general direction. "You've been staring at her for ten minutes straight."

"Oh," Shepard mumbled. Then, she ran an irritated hand through her hair. "I'm glad she's here but…I don't know. I don't really understand it."

"She said she wanted to help," Miranda said dubiously. "Frankly, I wouldn't be surprised if she were spying on you for the Alliance."

Shepard scowled. "I…" She blinked for a moment, sighing. "What bothers me most about that is that before, I would've told you that she wouldn't do something like that. Not to me. After Horizon, though…" Shepard looked away, turned to watch Ashley gesticulate wildly while speaking with Dr. Chakwas. "Well," she said with a blatantly false smile. "You think you know a girl, huh?"

"_Shepard_."

Shepard shrugged, her expression resigned. "I know. I should probably go talk to her."

Nodding, Miranda briefly touched her hand to Shepard's. "Whatever is going on needs to be cleared up soon. Just talk to her, because whatever all this is…it can't get in the way of the mission."

"The mission. Yeah. Got it," she repeated hollowly.

Miranda squeezed Shepard's larger fingers before letting go. "And you should talk to her because it's bothering you so...maybe it's bothering me a little too," Miranda admitted.

Shepard's melancholy disappeared and her expression warmed. "Are you actually expressing affection, Miss Lawson?" she teased.

Miranda deliberately ignored the sudden flicker of shyness in her stomach, and sniffed. "Don't flatter yourself, Commander. You're just not as attractive when you frown."

"Ouch. I hate it when you objectify me."

"Do you?" Miranda glanced over her shoulder before discreetly threading her fingers through Shepard's belt loops and tugging her forward by her hips. They were close enough to kiss at this point, and Miranda delighted in the way Shepard's breathing hitched for just a moment. "I have no idea what you're talking about," she whispered with a smirk before pulling away. "Now go on. Find me later. Then maybe we can finish what we started before Joker's rather…untimely interruption."

Miranda's hips seemed to sway a little more than usual as she left, and Shepard tried not to stare. When the operative turned to give her one last, tiny smile over her shoulder, Shepard realized it was an exercise in futility.

.

.

.

Shepard stared at her empty aquarium, watching the kelp sway in the water and the bubbles from the filtration tank burst at the surface. It was mesmerizing and calming even without Mr. Bigglesworth, Sodapop and crew, and it made it easy to get lost in her thoughts. So much so that she barely heard the door to her cabin open.

"You wanted to see me, skipper?" Ashley asked. "Wow," she said, shaking her head. "Haven't said those words in awhile."

"I bet you didn't expect to."

"Probably as much as you didn't expect to see me here…which is what I'm guessing this is about." She gestured towards the leather couch. "May I?"

Shepard chuckled, but the sound was bitter and dry. "Before, you probably would've just flopped down on it without asking and spilled some beer."

"Not true," Ashley said lightly. "…You didn't have a leather couch on the old Normandy."

Lines sharpened on Shepard's face, making her look uncharacteristically stern. "You know what I mean."

Ashley looked away. "Yeah," she said, blinking, "I do."

There was a moment of silence between them, one that, two years ago, would've been comfortable and soothing. Now, it was anything but. "Just…" Shepard sighed, crossing her arms and shrugging. "Why are you here, Ash?"

"Huh. Figures you'd jump right into it." Ashley stared down at her hands, not answering for a moment. Then she exhaled a rough, shaky breath. "'Theirs not to reason why, theirs but to do and die,'" she quoted softly.

The sense of calmness Shepard had broke into a million pieces in an instant, and she felt ugly, dark anger grow in its place.

"I never liked Tennyson," Shepard said, whirling to face Ashley. "And for once, I don't want any quotes, I don't want any damn poetry. I want to know what you're thinking and how you feel in your own words." Running a frustrated hand through her hair, Shepard began to pace back and forth while Ash seemed to sink deeper into the couch.

"Commander…"

Ashley went ignored. "I know it seemed like I could do a lot of things that seemed impossible. Going to Ilos…stopping Saren…I get it. But at the end of the day, I'm only human. I _died_, Ashley. There wasn't anything I could do about it. And yeah, Cerberus brought me back to life. I sure as hell don't agree with their methods. I've seen what they've done in their experiments and nothing in the universe will justify that. But I have no choice. They're the only ones actually doing something about the Collectors and the Reapers. They're the only ones that actually believe me. _You _didn't believe me."

Ashley remained silent.

Shepard's eyes burned like coals. "Do you know what that's like?" she asked, clearly not expecting an answer from the other woman. "It starts to make you feel crazy. Like maybe you are just making it all up. Maybe being pieced back together after your body is blown to bits isn't so good for your brain, maybe everything you did and were meant nothing because no matter how much you shout, no one's willing to listen."

"Shepard…"

"Maybe it's good of you not to trust me. I don't even know if I'm really me anymore. Maybe I'm just a really advanced VI that thinks it's Commander Shepard." Shepard shook her head roughly. "You lost your best friend when I died," she said. "But I lost at least five of mine."

Shepard refused to look Ashley in the eye, and instead focused her gaze on the floor. The silence settled over them like a heavy blanket, smothering and uncomfortable. Ashley just shifted in her seat, staring at the lines of the Commander's face that were sharper and more distinct. Whether it was due to the shadows or the scars, Ashley had never seen Shepard look this tired, this resigned; even after the Council grounded her all those months ago, she'd never seen the Commander look so…defeated. She opened her mouth to speak, hoping the words she wanted to say would suddenly come out of nowhere. "Shepard, I just-"

"Commander," said Joker over the intercom, causing both women to jump a little in surprise. "The Illusive Man wants to speak with you."

Shepard's back stiffened at the mention of the infamous Cerberus leader's name and Ashley's eyes grew flinty with suspicion. "Thanks, Joker," the Commander said to the speaker in the ceiling. "I'll be in the debriefing room in a moment."

"Understood, Commander." Joker signed off the intercom with a crackle, one that was loud enough to make the following silence even heavier than before.

Shepard ducked her head and decided to barrel through the tension. "I just don't know what you want from me, Ash," she admitted.

The former gunnery chief took a deep breath, visibly steeling herself. "I want you to forgive me for the way I acted on Horizon, Shepard. And," she paused, struggling for words, "for you to understand…I just need some time."

"I _do_ understand, Ashley, but you have to know I don't have that time to give. I can't focus on convincing you to follow me, not when-"

"That's not it. I'm with you, Shepard," Ashley interrupted. "I wouldn't be here otherwise. Look," said Ashley, "I've seen what the Collectors can do and I want to stop them." She bit at the inside of her lip. "I guess I just wanted you to know that I'm trying to understand all this too." Ashley paused, staring at her palms. "I'm..I'm sorry that I can't give you more. I just hope that that's good enough."

Shepard finally stopped pacing and, after hesitating only for a moment, took a seat next to Ashley on the couch, breathing deeply through her nose. "Never feel like you're less than that, Ash," she said solemnly, "no matter what."

Shepard hadn't planned on resolving everything – or anything, really – in one sitting, but something in the atmosphere certainly changed, shifted into something less hostile, less hurtful, with her words.

Ashley looked torn for a moment. A thousand words went unsaid, yet the way the Commander's blue eyes met Ashley's brow ones without as much anger, confusion, and hurt in them, the way she didn't ask for any more explanation...that alone spoke a million words more.

Ashley gave a hesitant smile, looking into that familiar clear blue gaze. "Aye, aye, Captain."

.

.

.

She didn't bother with pleasantries, as usual. "The nose?"

"Not broken," Jacob Taylor answered, tossing a bloodied piece of tissue paper into the wastebasket. He touched his fingertips to the bridge of his nose gently, wincing. "Sure feels like it though."

Miranda's lips quirked. "The Commander packs quite the punch."

"I'll say." Jacob glanced over his shoulder, catching the unguarded, soft expression on Miranda's face, the same one he was beginning to associate with Shepard. "What happened down there?" he asked, studying the perfect woman's expressions carefully. "In the cargo bay, I mean. Before you brought her back."

Only Miranda, Mordin, Liara, and Dr. Chakwas knew what had really happened; Shepard had decided for the time being, it was easier not to address the indoctrination just yet. Miranda was of the idea that it was best not to tell the rest of the squad at all – it surely wasn't going to inspire great morale and trust in Shepard right when they needed it most – but Shepard merely shook her head and asked Miranda to let her handle it her way. And Miranda, as of late, was having a hard time saying no to the Commander. Not that she would ever admit that.

Jacob looked at her expectantly, but her face betrayed nothing, save for the small flicker of indecision before she spoke. "Nothing that isn't resolved already." Miranda Lawson was as graceful in conversation as she was in a fight, and she danced and weaved around her words as easily as she did her enemies. "As you can imagine, she…wasn't in the best state," she said cautiously. "She was…confused."

"I'll say," Jacob retorted, gently touching his nose once more at the painful memory of the Commander lashing out. "You and the docs had her in the medical bay for a while, there."

"It was necessary," said Miranda, tone clipped and as unaffected as possible.

"Can't imagine what the Collectors did to her," Jacob confessed, shaking his head. "Don't want to, considering what we've seen."

"Then let's not dwell on it," Miranda replied. "Shepard's…" she bit her lip, pausing for a moment. "Shepard's fine. I'm…pleased."

"I'm sure you are," Jacob said. After receiving a glare from the other Cerberus agent, he gentled his expression and gave her a small smile. "Miranda, about before…when we talked about you and Shepard…"

She tensed in an instant. Miranda lifted an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "Are you sure you want to continue this thread of conversation, Jacob?"

Her low tone was intended to scare him off, but Jacob wouldn't be deterred; they didn't have room or time for mistakes and misunderstandings when the journey into the relay loomed so close. "Yes," he reaffirmed, "Whether you want to hear it or not, I wanted to say that I'm sorry for the way I reacted. It was childish and selfish."

"Yes," Miranda conceded, "it was."

Of course she wouldn't budge easily, but Jacob tried again. "I see it now though, Miranda," he said. "I guess I was too hurt and too blind to see it before, but…you and Shepard…" he struggled for a second, several emotions passing across his face. "You guys…make sense. You're good together."

The coldness melted from Miranda's eyes after a moment, and her familiar half-smirk appeared. "Chance of imminent death has gotten you all sentimental, Jacob."

He rolled his eyes. "I'm not good with words—" here, Miranda snorted – "but I wanted you to know…even though there was a time when I wanted more, I never stopped being your friend."

For a moment, Miranda Lawson actually hesitated. Then she stepped forward, dropping a brief kiss on Jacob's stubbled cheek. "It may be an irritating quality sometimes, Jacob," she said, "but I suppose your empathy has its benefits."

Jacob laughed, shaking his head ruefully. "I've never met anyone that could insult and compliment someone else at the same time."

Pulling away with a cocky smirk, Miranda said, "You've never met anyone like me, period."

.

.

.

It was funny how after everything she'd been through, some things just didn't change. He still sat with his back to her for a moment, still gazing at the large, burning star in front of him - still barely acknowledged her presence even though he was the one that had asked for it.

"Shepard," the Illusive Man greeted in his typical, non-committal way, exhaling particularly roughly after a long drag from his cigarette.

She was grateful that they never met in person sometimes, considering she'd probably die from smoke inhalation otherwise. "Illusive Man," Shepard nodded. Rarely did she look forward to a meeting with him, but considering she knew exactly what he wanted to talk about…Shepard shifted her weight on her heels in slight unease.

He spun in his swivel chair, turning to face her. His eerie blue eyes stared at her, unblinking, and his face was dark in the cover of the shadows. "Good to see that you're back in one piece. I would hope there are no…lasting effects or repercussions from your little visit with the Collectors?"

"My little visit," she repeated in disbelief. "You mean my abduction and subsequent torture by the Collectors?" Crossing her arms, Shepard cocked her hip. "Oh yeah. No lasting effects or repercussions. What's a little psychological and physical trauma every once in awhile?"

His eyes glinted in the relative darkness of the room. "Sarcasm isn't very becoming, Shepard."

"Neither is your condescension."

He scanned over a nearby datapad, then tossed it aside without another glance. "You mistake my concern for derision. I have nothing but your best interests, _humanity_'_s_ best interests in mind."

"You mean Cerberus's," Shepard clarified.

Waving a dismissive hand, he simply brushed off her distrust as usual. "One and the same. But I'm sure you're just as tired of this argument as I am. I can't convince you as much as you can't convince me."

"So let's get to the point then," offered Shepard. "You probably just want to make sure Harbinger didn't ruin your little pet project."

He smiled, and it predictably set Shepard's teeth on edge. "Miss Lawson's reports were extensive, as were Dr. Chakwas's. Both of them put you, for the most part, in the clear. I'm impressed, Shepard," the Illusive Man drawled, stubbing out his cigarette. "If you've truly overcome indoctrination, you would be the first human – no, first living creature – to ever do so."

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, well, all it took as a little assisted suicide."

"From our…_beloved _Operative Lawson, no less," he noted.

Something in his tone made her spine straighten. "Interesting choice of words," she replied, just as casually.

"Is it?" he asked, almost coy.

The Commander scowled. "I don't have time for your games. Say what you want to say, or don't. I've got a Collector base to assault and a crew to save."

He lit another cigarette, looking particularly bored. "I couldn't care less about what you and Miss Lawson get up to in your spare time—"

"—You'd better mind your own damn business, or—"

"—but," he said loudly, ignoring Shepard's interjection, "I do care how that affects the mission."

She was so very tired of hearing those words. "Here we go," Shepard muttered.

Blissfully, the Illusive Man ignored her and continued. "Commander Shepard, I'd like to know exactly what happened to you while with the Collectors. I'm sure the information you could provide could give us significant insight into them, as well as the Reapers. Their technology, their methods…anything you've seen could give us more leverage in the oncoming war."

"Miranda's report wasn't enough for you?"

He hummed, smirking a little. "_That's_ where I'm sure our favorite operative let her feelings get in the way." Shepard scowled but said nothing, and the curl of the Illusive Man's lip grew more pronounced. "What she's given me is merely a bare-bones account. I'm sure that's only out of the sentimental notion of sparing you the experience of re-living that trauma."

"Or maybe because there's nothing much to tell," Shepard shot back.

"Is that so?" he pursed his lips around the butt of his newly lit cigarette, drawing in a deep breath. He didn't bother to exhale and merely let the smoke curl out of his mouth as he spoke. "Then perhaps you could explain something to me. The one particular detail I found to be of interest."

"Which is?" she prompted, impatience coloring her tone.

She found the Illusive Man and his methods, his philosophies, his choices, to be wholly unjustifiable – ever since the beginning, she'd always felt a prickling of discomfort low in her spine. Now, the way those strange, robotic blue eyes seemed to peer deep through her own: the hairs on her arms stood on end, and she clenched her fists.

His words struck her like a blow, harder than a punch to the stomach from a krogan. "Whose voice did you think you heard? The one that gave you solace in your particularly dark times, reassured you when you were trying to escape indoctrination?"

For a split second, the Commander felt a peculiar numbness. Out of shock or disbelief, she didn't know. But, she wondered, even after all they had been through, was Miranda still so enamored with Cerberus that she would deliberately go against Shepard's wishes, go out of her way to report the information the Commander had asked to be kept private?

Just as quickly, she realized something about the heaviness of his gaze upon her, the way he seemed to be studying every careful expression on her face. Clues snapped into place like puzzle pieces. Miranda swore to keep that detail off the record, and Miranda didn't make promises lightly. More importantly, the ones she did make – she kept. The Illusive Man, however, would not have that kind of integrity.

"You've been spying on us," she spat. "You've got bugs planted on the Normandy, don't you?"

The Illusive Man blinked in what she supposed he thought was what innocence looked like. "It _is _a Cerberus-owned ship."

She stared at him with utter disgust. "For all your talk about humanity, everything you do defiles what it is to be human. You're a lying, deceitful, ruthless son of a-"

"Now, Commander," he began.

"No," she growled. "To hell with this. I've got nothing left to say to you except this: I'm going after the Collectors now, and unless you plan on hopping aboard, then back the hell off. I've done as you asked." With an angry curl of her lip, she turned. A rough, dismissive wave of her hand had Joker shutting off the transmission without so much as a snarky comment.

The Illusive Man barely blinked, and instead, just took another apathetic drag as he stared at the spot where the Commander had stood. "Not everything, Shepard," he said to himself, blue eyes glowing in the darkness as he sat back, content to wait.

.

.

.

It wouldn't have been so painful if Jack had punched her without the use of her biotic powers. Of course Jack had no such restraint.

"You motherfucker," Jack hissed, first out of anger, and then out of pain as her hand throbbed. "Did they fucking make your face out of steel? That shit hurt!"

"Yeah. It did." Shepard moved her jaw side to side, checking for any loose teeth or blood. She found none, but spat anyway. "Jack, listen…"

"No, _asshole_. Last time I did that, you handed yourself over to the Collectors like a fucking idiot, singlehandedly screwing us all. What the fuck were you thinking?"

The Commander rubbed at her brow. "Trust me, Jack. No one regrets that more than I do."

"Oh, okay," the biotic sneered, "now that makes everything better. Fuck you." Jack stomped off towards her makeshift bed, flopping down on it and staring angrily at the ceiling.

"I know you're angry—"

"Gee, where'd you get that idea? Fuck off."

"—but for what it's worth," Shepard continued, "I'm sorry that I put you in that position."

Jack snorted. "What it's worth? Apologies are about as useful as a fucking box of hair."

Blinking, Shepard sat down on the nearby metal bench. "A box of hair? What the hell would you even need that for?"

"Nothing. That's the point, dumbass."

"I don't know, you probably could use it, cueball." Jack was clearly not amused, and her scowl deepened. For a moment, Shepard just watched her before giving a heavy sigh. "I did what I thought was best at the time. It was dumb, yeah, and I've sure as hell paid for it. But you guys got away. You got the IFF and now we can go through the relay and get our crew back."

"_Your _crew," Jack pointed out. "I couldn't give a lesser shit about these Cerberus fucks."

Shepard rolled her eyes. "At the very least, you'll get to kick a metric ton of Collector ass. How about that? You can't say I don't get all the best enemies."

Jack rolled over, facing the wall and turning her back on Shepard. "Whatever," she muttered.

"There's that bright and shiny personality I missed."

"Oh, for fuck's sake—"

"How about this? If we survive all this," Shepard suggested, "I'll let you play around for a day. Put the Normandy through her paces and all."

The reconciliatory offer had the opposite effect than Shepard intended. "You think you can just fuck everything up and expect it to be okay after a few stupid jokes and goofy smiles?" spat Jack, looking angrier. "You don't know shit."

"You're right. I don't." She lowered her voice, rested her palms on her knees and leaned forward on the bench. "I wish you would explain it to me." When Jack still didn't respond, the Commander pressed onward. "Look, Jack, we're here to stop the Collectors. Whatever any of our motivations are, whatever personal reasons we may have for fighting…"

"Don't worry, _Commander_, I'll do my job," said Jack.

"That's not what I meant."

"Then fucking spit it out."

Shepard's voice cut like a knife with its brutal honesty. "You might be fighting just because you think that's all you're made for, but it's not."

"Don't try to psychoanalyze me, Shepard. I've had enough of your bullshit."

"Then why haven't you left?" Shepard asked. "No one's stopping you. You're free from Purgatory, you got your Cerberus data, you blew up Pragia. What more is there, if there's nothing to you but fighting?"

Jack sat up, glaring daggers with flushed cheeks. "I'm just here to kick Collector ass, and –"

"Bullshit," Shepard interrupted. Jack opened her mouth to retort when Shepard just scowled and continued on. "Ask yourself why you're still here, Jack, or why you're so angry that I left you and Mordin on that Reaper ship." Her blue eyes were like shards of ice, piercing into Jack's furious brown ones. "It's the same reason why I'm here trying to apologize. Because I care about you; because you're my friend."

"Fuck you and your feelings," hissed Jack angrily. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

"Is it really so bad to actually give a shit about something, Jack? To care?" Shepard questioned. "Hasn't it occurred to you that maybe that's what separates us from things like the Reapers?"

For a moment, Jack froze. Then she melted back into her typical rage, eyebrows furrowed and lips curled in a half-sneer, half-scowl. "Get the fuck out," said Jack, turning her back to Shepard once more. "I'm…I'm done talking."

"Jack…"

"Get. Out."

There was a moment of silence where Jack didn't hear the telltale shifting of clothes, the hint of movement. Then, she heard the Commander stand and reluctantly, take heavy steps up the stairs. Jack just knew the Commander didn't look back.

If she had, she probably would've noticed the way Jack curled tighter into herself on her cot, her expression pensive and filled with something akin to regret.

.

.

.

"You look terrible."

Millions and millions of stars zoomed past the window in Shepard's ceiling, her eyes ever watchful as she lay flat on her bed, staring upwards. "Thanks," she said, her lips curling in a smile. "Is that any way to greet your lover, Miss Lawson?"

The familiar sound of Miranda's heels clacking against the floor as she approached the bed quickened the beat of her heart, made her breathing hitch just the tiniest bit.

"One of many," Miranda said lowly, standing at the foot of the bed until Shepard leaned up on her elbows to look at her. Blue eyes raked over Miranda's svelte form with both affection and desire, and her stomach flipped at the cool smile on the operative's face. Curiously, Miranda seemed to be waiting for something, and with a smirk, Shepard surged upwards and grabbed the dark-haired woman around her middle in a bear hug. "Shepard!" she laughed as they tumbled back down on the bed, her body sprawled on top of the Commander's. "You're insane," Miranda murmured with a gentle smile, holding herself up by the elbows and brushing a strand of hair out of Shepard's eyes.

"I'd have to be, in order to deal with all this," Shepard agreed, humming when Miranda's touch moved from her forehead and stroked down the side of her face. Unconsciously, the grip Shepard had on Miranda's hips tightened, and doubt and confusion ran across her face.

"What is it?" Miranda asked softly.

Shepard sighed. "Jack's still angry with me, and Ashley…I don't know where we stand. I still haven't even talked to the others yet."

"We're running out of time," said Miranda.

Shepard tried to focus on Miranda's weight atop her, the pleasant crush of their bodies and the way Miranda's breath caressed her lips as she leaned ever closer. It was better than focusing on what had happened in the past few days, or what would happen in the next. "No one knows that more than I do."

"Are you going to tell the others? About what happened with…with Harbinger and everything," Miranda clarified, searching the Commander's face with curious blue eyes.

"I wanted to," Shepard said, "I still want to. But maybe…maybe you're right." Her right hand left Miranda's hip to travel to the middle of her back, running up and down the curve of her spine. "Telling them I was indoctrinated won't exactly give them the vote of confidence they need, or inspire trust." Miranda hummed something noncommittal, resigning to let her thumb do the talking as it traced down the line of Shepard's jaw. "I'm not even sure if I trust myself anymore."

"You should," Miranda said. "Shepard, don't doubt yourself. You're more capable than anyone I've ever met, more focused on stopping the Reapers than anyone in the galaxy. If there's anyone we should be putting our trust in, it would be you."

"Miranda, I pointed a gun at you. I was going to kill you, and I let them kidnap our crew, and –"

"Harbinger did that," Miranda said firmly, holding Shepard's chin in her hand and forcing the other woman to look her in the eye. "Not you." Shepard said nothing. "It _wasn't you_."

"Miranda…"

"Don't argue." Miranda crushed her mouth to Shepard's, her hands on either side of the Commander's face. Shepard felt all rationality leave her body in a rush, and any words she was going to say caught in her throat as she groaned against the onslaught of Miranda's lips, the slickness of her probing tongue, the rasp of her teeth against Shepard's bottom lip. Just as abruptly, Miranda pulled away, breathless and flushed. "Now," she breathed, "what was it you said to me before?"

"Um." Thinking was still proving to be a difficult task for the Commander as her eyes remained glued on the swollen, bee-stung lips of the woman above her.

"We'll do this," Miranda reminded her, echoing the Commander's words from before. "And we'll do it together."

Heat borne of pride, confidence, and determination coursed throughout the Commander's body upon Miranda's words. She dug her fingers into Miranda's hips, surging up to capture the other woman's lips once more. "Okay," she murmured as she dragged her mouth away from Miranda's, choosing to taste the spot right behind Miranda's earlobe with her tongue. "Okay."

"You know," Miranda gasped, tangling her fingers in Shepard's hair and inadvertently pulling, sending delicious shocks of arousal down the Commander's spine. Her voice was shaky and rough as she spoke. "I…I can think of a few more things we can do together."

Shepard's hands were already fumbling at the zippers on Miranda's jumpsuit, her next words making Miranda's heart thud in her chest. "Why don't you show me?"


End file.
